Holiday
by Dark Aegis
Summary: She kissed him on the cheek and said cheerily, We're doomed. Part of the Brigadierverse, sequel to A Brave New World, Duty Calls, and Homecoming. Note, the other stories in this series do not need to be read in order to follow this story.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Holiday  
**Author:** Gillian Taylor  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters:** Tenth Doctor, Rose, Jack, Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart  
**Summary:** _She kissed him on the cheek and said cheerily, "We're doomed."_  
**Series:** Part of the Brigadier-verse (Stories in series: _A Brave New World_, _Duty Calls_, and _Homecoming_)  
**Spoilers:** Christmas Invasion, Virgin New Adventures Novel _"Blood Heat"_  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.  
**Archive:** Sure, just let me know.

**A/N:** The rest of the Brig-verse and the VNA _Blood Heat_ do not have to be read prior to reading this story. Thanks, as always, to my lovely betas NNWest, Ponygirl72, and WMR for their encouragement and suggestions. This story is still being written, as such the number of chapters is morphing. Also, I will be posting at a rate about one every two days.

* * *

_Holiday  
by Gillian Taylor_

**Chapter 1: Just a Nice Day Out**

This was how it always started. A tired companion, worn out from adventures, asked for a holiday. He, being as impressive as he always was, agreed. One holiday. A few days of nothing but indulgent pleasure on a nice, peaceful planet and no running.

At least, that was how it was planned.

This was how it always went. Arrive on nice, peaceful planet in the midst of a revolution. Get shot at, captured, tied up, expected to come up with a brilliant escape plan - easy, that, have to rescue the others, and then run back to the TARDIS barely in the nick of time to escape.

Typical.

He needed a holiday from his holiday.

"Remind me again whose brilliant idea it was to go to Cadalia? A nice, peaceful planet. Nice trees. Nice scenery. Nice place to visit for a holiday. No running?" Rose groused from her slouched position on the chair next to the console.

Maybe it was more that he needed a holiday from talking about his holiday. Or something like that. "No running? But that's _boring_, Rose! 'Sides, how else are we to keep fit?"

"I can think of a few suggestions." Jack contributed to the discussion with a characteristic leer.

Yup. Typical. "Why am I not surprised?"

Rose's expression had changed from despondent to something else entirely. She rose, sharing a conspiratorial look with Jack, before advancing upon him. "I have a few suggestions, too. An' none of them involve running. Well," she amended with a grin, "maybe at first."

When had the conversation changed from holidays? Had he missed something? He blinked. "You do?" That was not his voice. Since when had his voice been that low?

"Yeah. An' you know what else?"

"What?" Definitely not his voice.

A hand slipped into his, followed shortly by his other hand being claimed by Jack. "This a mutiny?" he asked, his voice seeming to drop even lower.

"Only," Jack said, leaning into him, "if you want it to be."

He swallowed. Did he?

When Rose tugged his other hand imperiously, he knew that there was only one possible choice.

Yes.

So many times he had led. Pulling one, or both, behind him into danger. Leading one, or both, to see everything the universe had to offer.

Now it was their turn to lead. They had confessed their love. They had shared kisses and caresses. They had gone to a point, before stopping, drawing out the wait. The expectation was everything. The build-up was everything. Now it was his turn to be led. It was time to cross the threshold.

Down the halls of his TARDIS. Around corners and turns.

To a room.

His room. Her room. Jack's room. It did not matter.

Not anymore.

It was their room.

* * *

There was nothing quite like a good book, a good cup of tea, and sitting in your favourite chair when the weather was nasty outside. It was comforting, really. As much as he enjoyed spending time in the gardens, he preferred this more. This was what retirement was all about. Enjoying the simple things in life. No wars. No emergencies. No alien invasions. Nothing but him, a steaming mug of his favourite tea, and a good mystery to sink his teeth into.

Perfect.

He had barely reached the second paragraph, when the phone rang. With a low grumble, he put down the book and the cup. Typical. If it was another prank caller, he could not be held accountable for his actions. At least Doris had gone into town and would not be able to overhear him. Thank goodness for small comforts.

The shrill ring caused him to wince. "I'm coming," he told it impatiently, not that the phone even cared. He picked up the phone, and without bothering with typical niceties, he began somewhat tetchily, "Yes?"

The unexpected sound of the current UNIT CO's voice dismissed his disgruntlement with ease. Bambera's voice sounded strained as she began without preamble, "We've got a problem."

"What is it?"

"I'm sending the chopper to get you, Alistair."

He sobered immediately. "That serious?"

"If not more so." Winifred Bambera sighed heavily. Through the phone, he could almost hear her begin to pace. "I'm also sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I've been given orders from Geneva. For the duration of this problem, your commission has been reinstated."

Alistair blinked in shock. The last time he had been pulled out of retirement, he had been embroiled in a war between medieval knights and UNIT forces. Then again, at the time, the Doctor had been firmly in the middle of the situation. "Is our scientific advisor involved?"

"He _is_ the situation. I'll see you at HQ, Alistair. And give Doris my apologies."

He made his farewells quickly and hung up the phone. What on Earth had the Doctor done now? He had only said goodbye to the Doctor and his companions a few weeks ago. Surely that wasn't enough time for his old friend to get into more trouble.

Of course it was. It was the Doctor.

He sighed as he made his way upstairs. He needed to put together an overnight bag, and pull out his uniform. Doris would not be happy about this, but there was no choice.

He had more questions than answers, and that was one situation that he never cared for.

"What have you done now, Doctor?" he asked.

As expected, there was no answer.

* * *

She watched him as he practically bounced around the room, flipping switches, turning knobs, and generally making a spectacle of himself for, she assumed, her benefit. A fond smile played about her lips as he leaned in a particularly uncomfortable looking position to hit another control. She blinked away the remembered images of last night. The Doctor's lanky body, Jack's muscular one, Jack's hands, the Doctor's hands, their kisses… "So, where we goin' now?"

He looked up at her and grinned. "It's a surprise." His grin was somewhat shy, she realised, but there was a cause for it. Things had changed, but it was a good change. The best change. But that did not negate what he had just said. A surprise. Oh _great_.

"Doctor..." She remembered how the last surprise had turned out. It had turned out with them in jail, Jack confronting his mother, and a generally unpleasant experience. Admittedly, it had ended up rather well for them personally, but that was later. After the 'surprise' part of the surprise was over.

"What?" His expression was innocent as he pumped the handle on the side of the console. "Surprises can be good."

"They can be," she agreed. She touched the tip of her tongue against her teeth as she added, "But, with you, that's questionable."

"Oi!" he protested. However, she could tell that he was not upset. Once the TARDIS was firmly on its way to whatever 'surprise' the Doctor had in store for them, he quickly crossed to her side and pressed a too-brief kiss against her lips. "You'll love it. Promise."

"The last time you said that, I ended up wearing a hot pink tube sock thing that'd look better on a worm than on me. An' Jack wasn't much better, though at least he got something semi-decent. An' you jus' mucked about in your usual get-up. How's that for something that you promise I'll love?" She hated that planet. With a passion. Though the shopping was nice. She just could have done without the over-abundance of that shade of pink.

He looked somewhat downtrodden as he patted her shoulder. "This'll be better. Promise. No pink tube socks, for one thing." He wrinkled his nose slightly as he added, "Though there are mosquitoes."

"Mosquitoes," she repeated.

"Yup!" He beamed at her. "But that's the last hint you'll get. Go get Jack out of bed and put on some good hiking shoes. You'll love this!"

That cinched it. This was definitely one of _those_ surprises.

As she walked out of the console room, she spotted Jack heading down the corridor, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Before he could do more than mumble a 'good morning,' she pressed a kiss against his cheek and told him cheerily, "We're doomed."

It was definitely going to be one of those days.

* * *

He blinked after Rose as she continued down the hallway. Doomed? What? He was always half alive in the mornings until he got his hands on a cup of coffee. Rose and the Doctor knew that. But they were doomed?

He scratched the side of his nose and shrugged. He'd worry about it after his coffee. Hopefully the world would make far more sense after a good dose of caffeine than it did at the moment. At least, the world as it stood at the moment. He well remembered how it stood still last night. He stretched, wincing as aching muscles made themselves known. It had been a good night. The best night. But this was today. And he needed caffeine.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as he stepped inside and he patted the wall of the TARDIS in silent thanks. It might've been the Doctor's doing, might've been Rose's, but neither of them were readily available to thank. Besides, there were far more important things to worry about than who to thank.

Like where Rose had hidden the cream. Or even the milk. He really wasn't that picky.

He never did find the cream. The milk was almost gone, so he decided to forgo it. Two strong cups of coffee later, he felt far more awake and far more able to try and understand just why they were doomed. From what he remembered of Rose's expression, he suspected that he knew just why they were doomed and suppressed a world-weary sigh.

It was a surprise again, was it?

Great. Fantastic.

He needed more guns.

He poured himself a third cup of coffee and downed it in several gulps as he tried to determine just what sort of armaments he'd need to bring along. The sonic blaster was a given. So was his miniature blaster. Carbines were too big, and a pistol was too slow. He'd have to ask the Doctor what time period they were in since he'd have to be extra careful about using the sonic blaster anywhere near the locals.

An explosive or two probably wouldn't hurt. He could put some of those grey canisters into his carryall. Though, once again, it would depend on the time period. He did not fancy landing himself - and by extension his lovers - in jail because he had been too weapon-happy.

A knife or two would be a must. A Bowie and one of the boot-knives should work. Depending on where they landed, he might switch out the Bowie for a machete. But first things first. Find out when they were going and some minor inkling of where, and dress and pack accordingly.

Decision made, he put the coffee cup in the sink and headed for the console room. If it was a surprise, and he suspected it was, it would take a great deal of needling to get the Doctor to admit to much of anything.

"What's the surprise?" he asked without preamble as he walked into the console room. The Doctor shot him an exasperated look.

"Why is it that you lot always sound so depressed when it's a surprise? It's exciting! It's something new! It'll be fantastic! And what do you do? Make sullen remarks about 'what's the surprise?' like something bad's gonna happen. Where's the excitement? Where's your sense of adventure? Where're your trousers?" The Time Lord's expression was somewhere between aroused and confused.

He looked down and blinked. Oh. "Think they're still on the floor in the bedroom. Wanna help me look for them?" He grinned as he made the suggestion.

"That'll be later. For now, adventures await! Go on, then, get dressed." The Doctor made a shooing motion with his hands.

"Where are we? You don't have to tell me the planet, just what the weather's like. Just so I know how to dress."

"Tropical rainforest. And it's 2007, so keep that gun of yours hidden."

Though he knew that the Doctor did not mean it as anything other than innocent, he did his best to look depressed as he replied, "Okay, okay, I'll put my jeans on. Then what shall I do with my sonic blaster?"

"That," the Time Lord said with a wicked grin, "Is for me to know and you to figure out. Now go get dressed, or nothing's going to get done around here. At least no adventuring."

He grinned. "Ah, but Doctor, with you _any_thing is an adventure. But fine. I'll go get dressed. If you insist."

"Oh, I do. At least for now. That's not to say that I might not change my mind later, mind. But for now, definitely. It'll be fun."

He knew exactly what Rose meant. They really were doomed. With a non-committal shrug, he left the Doctor by the console and headed deeper into the TARDIS.

A machete was definitely replacing the Bowie knife on his packing list. And he'd need to see if the wardrobe room had any appropriate jungle gear. Heavy boots, thick socks, and sturdy material were a must. Long sleeves would be a must as well, especially since the insects would definitely be biting.

Pounding footsteps reached his ears as Rose raced down the hallway toward him. She skidded to a stop and demanded without even seeming to pause for a breath, "Well? What did he say? Where are we?"

"It's a surprise," he replied and received a smack on his arm for his troubles. "Jungle. 2007. And that's all that I got out of him."

"At least it's more than I had. And where _are_ your jeans?"

"Well, I already asked the Doctor to help me find them but he seemed to be slightly reluctant. Something about adventures awaiting or some such. But you're more than welcome to help me look." He slung his arm around her and pressed a kiss against her hair.

"I bet I am. But the Doctor's right. We do need to get going. Otherwise we'll never leave the TARDIS." Rose murmured, though she made no move to pull away from him.

"And this is a bad thing because…?"

"You know the Doctor. If we're not there, he'll probably end up going out on his own and getting into trouble. We do have to keep an eye on 'im."

"Who said anything about letting him leave?" he asked, eyes wide. "He'd better be a willing participant."

"Jack!"

"What? Oh, all right. I'll go find my jeans." He made to pull away, but was stopped short by Rose's hand on his cheek.

"Keep it in mind for later," she told him. Before he could do more than think of a reply, her lips were on his.

When they finally parted he grinned, slightly breathless. "Well, another kiss like that, and we're definitely not leaving the TARDIS."

She smiled brightly at him and slipped neatly out of his arms and sauntered down the hallway toward the console room. Shaking his head in amusement, he headed deeper into the TARDIS. So many things to do, so little time.

* * *

He was going to grow old waiting for Jack and Rose to get to the console room. And that was saying something. He was a Time Lord. His body never really aged - well, it did, but it was barely noticeable. Besides, lots of Time Lords got a bit of sag around the waistline when they got to their later regenerations. At least, they used to.

His brow wrinkled slightly as he flipped a switch on the control panel. He wanted to be doubly certain that nothing could go wrong. He knew far too well that his surprises tended to have a bit more of the surprise added to them than he would generally like. This time, though, this time he would be certain. Just his companions and him, exploring history. That was it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

No running, no tripping, no getting captured, no angry natives, and definitely no megalomaniacs. Just a nice visit where he could show Jack and Rose the sights and sounds of Guatemala. Climb a pyramid, perhaps. Drop a rock in a cenote and try and determine how deep it really was just from the sound of its hitting the water. Explore. Avoid injury. In short, have a good time.

It was a good plan. The best sort of plan. This time, he was not going let anything ruin this wonderful plan of his. Nothing at all.

Where were they? He shot a look toward the doorway, resisting the urge to either go look for them or to tap his foot in impatience. Was that what sort of man he had become? Impatient? He was swiftly coming to the conclusion that it was. At least where waiting for his companions was concerned. There were things to see! Not a lot of daylight hours to spend! Well, there were, this was a time machine, but no. They had arrived, and they were going exploring.

He had just decided to call out for them when Rose entered the console room. "What?" she asked. Apparently, his expression gave away some of what he was feeling.

"Just wondering where you were. Did you see Jack?"

"Yeah, he's gettin' changed. I think he's getting more guns," Rose said thoughtfully.

He really didn't understand. Why did they always assume the worst? "He doesn't need them. Not here."

She looked sceptical. "Right."

"I don't get you lot." He shook his head. "You assume the worst. It'll be fine. It'll be great! It's the tropical rainforest! What can go wrong?"

She sighed. "Doctor, don't you know that by sayin' that you've doomed us?"

"You lot. So superstitious."

"More like we know you," she corrected.

"I'm not like that."

"You so are." She grinned at him, poking just the tip of her tongue out from between her teeth.

"I am, am I?" He marched across the room and pulled her unresisting form into an embrace. "Just because I said 'what can go wrong,' it doesn't mean something's gonna go wrong. You never know. Something might go right."

"Uh-huh."

"And you, Rose Tyler, should know better than that. Jus' cause we've had some bad luck before, it doesn't mean this'll be another case in point."

"The jury's still out on that," she said rather cheekily.

"Is it now?" He leaned in, capturing her lips with his own.

When they finally broke away from each other, he looked up to find Jack leaning against the doorway with a smug expression on his face.

"What?"

"You two are so cute." Jack grinned, and he saw the unmistakable curve of a machete slung at his lover's side and a rucksack slung over his shoulder.

He arched an eyebrow at the sight. "And just how many weapons _are_ you carrying, Jack?"

The other man's grin deepened. "Wanna frisk me and find out?"

Of course he did. But that was a distraction they could ill afford. He wanted to get outside the TARDIS walls sometime that day after all. "I'll take a rain check on that. For now, adventures await!"

He released Rose from his arms and grasped her hand within his own, tugging her toward the doors. "You'll love this, Rose. Where we're going, no archaeologist has yet fully explored. Very few 'civilised' humans, at least as you term them, have visited this place. We're the first time travellers, far as I know. We're amongst the first people apart from some of the local tribes to see this place."

"Which is?"

He opened the doors and stepped aside, giving her the first glance into a tropical world full of lush green foliage, brilliantly coloured flowers and birds, and what was unmistakably - under all the moss - a large pyramid.

"Rose, Jack, welcome to Masuul. Or, as you lot of this time call it, Naachtun. Once, it was one of the more powerful trading posts in the Mayan empire before it was abandoned." He grinned at their awestruck expressions as he continued, "Go on, then. Get out there! Explore! Climb the ruins, find new stelae, watch out for the biting insects, and most of all keep an eye on the ground. There's bound to be a cenote or two lying around here and it's a long drop to the bottom of one of those."

He gave Rose a gentle shove out through the TARDIS doors, and gestured for Jack to follow her. Closing and locking the door behind them, he breathed in the rich, moist atmosphere with a contented sigh. This, he decided, was going to be perfect.

* * *

Cenotes? Stelae? She sighed. Of course he wouldn't explain just what those were for the untrained amateur archaeologists amongst them. Just expected her to find out for herself. Typical.

"An' those are?" she asked.

"What?"

"Cenotes? Stelae?"

"Ah," he replied as he ran a hand through his hair in an unconscious gesture. His posture changed into what she considered his 'absent-minded professor' mode. She knew what that meant. She was about to get a lecture. "Stelae are stones covered in hieroglyphics that the Mayans used to generally describe historical facts of a city and important events in the history of their kings.

"Cenotes are deep sinkholes. The Mayans used them to get their drinking water, water for their fields, and for ceremonial purposes. If I recall correctly, the one here is an open well. The vegetation can hide them, so watch your step. The fall can be as much as 15 metres to the water."

"You gonna make me sit an exam after this?" she asked.

"I'm sure he'll want to examine you. As do I. Oh, that wasn't what you meant?" Jack grinned as he slung an arm over her shoulders in a brief hug before releasing her again. It was too warm and sticky for close contact, sadly.

"Jack!" She laughed as she said his name. He really was outrageous sometimes, but that was part of why she loved him.

The Doctor smiled. "Now, go on, Rose. Explore."

She shot him a dubious look before she shrugged and picked a direction. She could see what looked like a large and corroded pillar lying on its side near the edge of the pyramid. Curious despite herself, she moved in that direction. The low murmurs of her lovers' voices were shortly overrun by the sounds of the jungle. She felt as if she were alone - just her, the rainforest, and the ruins - though she knew either the Doctor or Jack would keep her in sight no matter where she went.

The ground squelched alarmingly beneath her trainers and she regarded her muck-covered shoes with a saddened expression. She ruined more shoes while travelling with the Doctor, but when she reached the pillar she decided that it was worth it. Symbols and designs traced out intricate paths in the stone. The obvious care and beauty of the designs astonished her. It must have taken the ancient stonemasons years to work out these hieroglyphics - and all for what? A book?

She touched the moist stone and traced the ridges of a particularly prominent symbol. It looked somewhat like a cross between a dinosaur and a snake. Her hand paused in its path as she spotted something rather strange. The hieroglyph next to the dinosaur seemed to be some sort of lizard with what seemed to be a third eye. An alien?

She followed the glyphs with hands and eyes. From what she could tell, the dinosaur and the lizard-man seemed to be linked. She counted at least six different symbols that seemed to reference them. What could it mean?

She could always ask the Doctor. Maybe the reason Naachtun was abandoned was because of the lizard-men. Maybe. "Doctor?"

No answer.

Confused, she stood up and turned back toward where she had left the Doctor and Jack.

They were gone.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: One of _those_ surprises**

"Would you sit down?" he asked pointedly. He ignored the strong temptation to roll his eyes. The Doctor, this version at least, reminded him of a young puppy sometimes. Despite his age, despite his experience, he still managed to get himself into trouble at the drop of a hat.

This was no different.

The Doctor had ran off shortly after Rose had wandered toward the pyramid, babbling about some stelae that he had not noticed before or some such. After making certain that Rose was still in sight, he had followed. He remembered the Doctor's warnings about hidden cenotes.

It seemed the Time Lord had not, proving what sort of 'surprise' this was destined to be. The ground had given away underneath the Doctor, who had with a short 'oh!' of surprise started to fall. It was only his quick action that had prevented his lover from falling into the sinkhole.

He had not, however, prevented the Doctor from injuring himself.

"Jack, I'm fine."

"Yeah, right." He sighed. "Sit down! I want to take a look at that ankle."

The Doctor shot him a wounded look. "It's fine. Just a little twist, but nothing I can't handle. Besides, we need to get back to Rose. You know how jeopardy-friendly she is."

"She's not the one limping." Of course he would use the Rose-card. But he would not be swayed. The ankle needed attention, even if it was only twisted.

"How d'you know? She could be now. I just want to make sure she's all right." The worried look in his lover's eyes sent a pang through him.

"She'll be fine. I'll be quick." He dropped all innuendoes and urged him to sit down. "Just let me look."

With a much-put-upon look, the Doctor sank to the ground, rolling up the leg of his trousers to reveal the slightly-swollen limb. It did not look bad, he admitted. Might not even bruise, but it should be bandaged. He dug in his carryall for the roll of bandages and tore off a length. He worked in silence, deftly wrapping the ankle.

"There, done. Wasn't too hard, was it?"

"Doctor! Jack!" Rose's voice reached them and he turned in the direction of her voice.

"Over here!" He shouted, waving the hand that wasn't pressing the auto-sealers on the bandage to catch her attention.

Rose hurried toward them, skidding to a halt next to the Doctor. Her eyes took in their position on the ground.

Before she could ask any questions, the Time Lord spoke as he lifted his hand toward her. "You all right?"

She immediately grasped the offered hand and smiled. "Yeah. I turned around and you weren't there. Neither of you." Rose levelled him with an accusing look and he shrugged. She turned her attention back to the Doctor. "But shouldn't I be askin' you that?"

"Just had a bit of a run-in with a cenote. It forgot to leave out a closed for the holidays sign."

Rose sighed. "Right. An' what were you doin' while he was havin' an argument with a cenote, Jack?"

"Mediating."

She shot him a look. "So what really did happen? An' are you okay, Doctor?"

"Sure, I'm great. Like I said, had a run in with a cenote. It's all better now, though. Jack fixed me up."

He could see faint lines of pain around the other man's eyes despite his attempts to hide it. Sadly, he had nothing in his medkit that he could use to ease the pain. After all, the Doctor was apparently allergic to certain human medications – including aspirin. "Do you want to go back to the TARDIS?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No need to fuss! I'm fine! Spectacular! There's more to see than just the hidden cenote, after all."

Before he could reply, Rose spoke. "Speaking of more to see, I found something interesting. There's a…steli? Stela? Stelae, that's it. A stelae that's got a symbol on it that looks like a dinosaur."

That apparently caught the Doctor's attention. "A dinosaur?" The Time Lord pushed himself to his feet, balancing precariously for a moment though he waved off his unspoken offer of help. "Show me."

Something in the Time Lord's expression must have communicated urgency, for Rose nodded and led the way. He kept half an eye on his footing, and the other on the Doctor. He was hurting – it was obvious in the way he limped, though he tried to hide it, and in the set of his shoulders. However, he said nothing.

He was not certain just what it was about dinosaurs that had caught the Doctor's attention, but he knew this. Just as the cenote encounter indicated just what sort of surprise this trip was destined to be, the stelae confirmed it.

Almost subconsciously, his hand settled on the handle of his sonic blaster.

* * *

Was it too much to ask for one trip, just one, where no one got injured, there were no mysteries to catch his attention, and they could just enjoy being together as a family without worrying about life or death situations? He rather believed it was. Rose's words haunted him as he walked beside her, hand-in-hand.

Dinosaur.

This 'surprise' was gaining shades of a past adventure, oh so long ago. Another mystery. Another country. Same planet. Not again. Please, not again.

Rose led him to the eroded stelae, releasing his hand to point at the hieroglyphs that caught her interest. "See? It looks like a dinosaur, an' that lizard-man is somehow linked to it. I counted six of 'em like it. Is the lizard-man some sort of god or something?"

He stared at the carvings. It could not be possible. Should not be possible. He knew just who the images depicted. Knew what species, what they wanted, and why they would be here. A tropical rainforest would be the perfect place to remain until the present day. There was hope, however. He could be wrong.

Without responding to Rose, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and turned it on. The faint hum of the device was drowned out by the sounds of the jungle, but he heard enough of its output for confirmation. The pyramid, just in front of them, was emitting energy signatures that had no place in a Mayan ruin.

"Stay here," he told his companions.

A hand stopped his forward movement and he looked at it pointedly. "Oh, no, you don't, Doctor," Jack said, his grip firm. "What is it?"

"What's wrong?" Rose added.

He knew them. They would not let him leave unless he gave them some sort of explanation. "The pyramid. There's an energy signature that shouldn't be here. I can sneak in and sneak out without any the wiser. I want you two to either stay here or go back to the TARDIS."

"Like hell we will," Jack snapped.

Rose reached out to touch his shoulder. "You need us."

Always. But not now. "Yes, I do. First, I need you two to go to the TARDIS. You can come with me, but there's a chronon detector in the lab. I need it. Down the hall, up the stairs, past the Cleopatra bust, and second door on the left. Jack, I know I wouldn't normally say this but, believe it or not, I think we need more weapons. Can you do that?"

His companions shared a look before Rose spoke for them both. "You'll still be here when we get back, yeah?"

"Of course." He feigned hurt. "You doubt me?"

"Yes," Jack said. "It's you. How do we know this isn't some attempt to get rid of us so you can go off and get into trouble without us?"

He grinned. "Simple. My ankle's hurt, yeah? I certainly don't fancy climbing that pyramid or walking back to the TARDIS on it just yet. 'Sides, you can stop at the medical bay and get that sonic healing device from the cabinet. It'll fix me up good as new. This'll also give me a chance to look at this stelae a bit closer. There might be something else on here that can give us an idea of what we might be up against."

His companions looked sceptical. "All right," Rose said, somewhat reluctantly. "But you'd better be here when we get back!"

He nodded. If everything went as he intended, he should be back well before they returned.

With yet another unhappy look, the two headed for the TARDIS. Each time one of them turned – just to make certain he had not disappeared, he was certain – he grinned and waved cheerily at them. He had no intention of moving a muscle.

Not until they were out of sight, of course.

He was certain that they were deliberately lagging. They could move faster. Quicker they went, quicker he could do the same. When they finally disappeared into the foliage, he grinned. Fantastic.

According to the sonic, the signal was near the top of the pyramid. Sparing a brief thought for his injured ankle, he shrugged. Nothing to it. Just get up and get down again with none the wiser.

Easy.

The overgrown steps proved precarious as he climbed the pyramid. The size of it was deceptive from the ground. Clinging to its side, nothing was more obvious. At the height of Naachtun's power, the pyramid must have been magnificent. Someday, he promised himself, he'd go back to see it. Do a comparison. See the sights, meet the people, and avoid falling into cenotes. It was a plan.

His ankle protested each movement of his body, but he firmly ignored the pain. Had to be done. No choice. If what he suspected was true, his injury would be the least of his worries.

He rested briefly at the top to allow the throb of his ankle to subside. The air within the temple reeked of moss and mildew, which caused his nose to twitch in reaction. The signal was definitely stronger here, but it was apparently beneath him. Frowning in thought, he tucked his sonic screwdriver back into his pocket and pulled out a torch.

The powerful beam cut away at the dusty twilight of the covered temple. He cast the light over the walls and floor, skirting over the relics and cracked and faded paintwork. Ah. There. In the corner, on the wall.

An entrance.

He double-checked the readouts on his sonic screwdriver and spared a thought for Rose and Jack. If he wanted to let it seem that he had never left, he should return to the stelae. However, curiosity was a strong motivator. There was a saying that said it was better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, or something of that nature. That should work.

It took far longer than he liked to prise open the entrance and longer still to manoeuvre himself inside. He had to leave his trench-coat behind, but not before he had filled his pockets with the useful items he normally kept in his outer layer. This was probably a bad idea, but he had to know. He had to find out. If what he suspected was true, he would need to get hold of UNIT at the very least. The Brigadier, for certain.

If it was true, the human race was in danger.

Again.

As ever.

He shook his head ruefully at the thought as he shimmied down the narrow tunnel, deeper into the pyramid. His clothes caught against the cracked and worried stone as he travelled on. The beam of the torch showed no indication of an end to the passage – in his imagination, he could well believe it to reach the Earth's core. The humidity and general dampness of the rainforest seemed to, if anything, increase as he descended. Nothing that he had seen or felt seemed to negate his conclusions. If anything, they supported them.

_Squeak._

_Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratchety-scratch._

He stopped and braced himself against the sides of the tunnel. The sounds came from below, further down the tunnel. That confirmed it.

He knew exactly what was happening, and it was not good.

He had to get out.

Now.

_Scratch._

A sound. Behind him. His hearts thudded dully in his chest as he realised he was surrounded.

_Scratch, scratch._

Closer.

He turned off the torch, though he knew it would do little good.

_Scratch, scratch._

_Squeak._

He could try to move. Just a little, just a bit. Shift his aching limbs as he listened as the rush of blood filled his ears. There had to be a way. Something he could do. He had to get out.

_Scratch._

It was almost upon him. Almost here. He knew what they were, knew what they were capable of. He had to get out. Had to. There must be something. His hand tightened around the torch. It might work as a club. Might, even though they had hard skulls.

_Scratch._

Right behind him. His ankle twitched involuntarily, hitting the wall with a low thud. A moment later, he felt the floor disappear beneath him.

He fell...

...and landed.

With a crunch.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Another Fine Mess**

She had a bad feeling about this. Sure, it was a cliché of the worst sort. Repeated over and over again in _Star Wars_ and many, many other movies. But it was true. It worked especially well when one was the companion of the Doctor. Between the surprises he loved springing on them and the surprises that he did not, it was a wonder that she had managed to retain some semblance of sanity.

The Doctor had asked for a chronon detector. In the lab. She had rarely walked into the room, or even had cause to do so, but the first thought that had crossed her mind when she heard his request was that he was a nutter. Find one device, just one, in the jumble of tubes, wires, boxes, chemicals, beakers, metal bits, and odds and ends that was the lab?

Yeah, right.

He was a nutter. A lovable, sexy nutter. But a nutter all the same.

She stared about her with a lost expression. If she were a chronon detector, where would she hide herself? If she were a chronon detector, what would she look like? She should have gone for the guns while Jack looked for the detector. At least she would have a decent chance of picking something out that would work. Here, she was lost. Useless.

A chronon detector? She looked along the walls, under the benches, in drawers and cabinets. Of course, he had not labelled anything. That would make too much sense. Had to make things difficult for her. Typical.

That was when she spotted it. It sat in plain sight, precariously perched atop a massive pile of wires. The flashing lights meant little to her, but the tiny text helpfully translated by the TARDIS did.

_Dante-Kasume Chronoscope VXIV_

Chronoscope. Had to be it. She plucked the device off the table and tucked it under her arm. There. Now all she had to do was get Jack and get back to the Doctor. She was under no illusions that in the space of time they had been gone he had got into trouble. It was the Doctor, after all. He did not have to look for trouble; it found him.

She headed out of the lab, hefting the device to a more comfortable position against her side as she walked. Just what the Doctor needed a chronoscope for was beyond her. If anything, it would make a decent blunt object to smack him with should he have moved an inch away from the stelae.

Jack smiled at her as she walked into the console room. "Ready?"

"Yeah. The quicker we get back to him the better." She definitely had a bad feeling about this. She knew that he was gone. The Doctor was gone. Not dead, but gone. Wandered off somewhere without them and fell into a cenote or got himself captured by a native tribe. Something. He certainly would not be next to the stelae.

She knew him.

And now she kicked herself for not insisting that either she or Jack stay with him.

"He'll be fine, Rose," Jack said, brushing her cheek with his lips. He hefted his bulging rucksack and opened the doors, gesturing for her to precede him outside.

She grimaced as her shoes sank into the moist dirt of the jungle. The weight of the chronoscope was not helping any as she fought her way across the ground, but she was determined. She was going to get to the Doctor. As fast as possible.

The pyramid loomed above them as they forced their way back through foliage that, to her anxious mind, seemed to fight against their passage. Faster. Faster.

The last of the brush was pushed away and her fears were confirmed. No Doctor.

No note.

Surprise!

She was going to kill him. With the chronoscope.

* * *

Shit.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should've known. Should've guessed. Should've tied the Doctor to the stelae before leaving and taken away his sonic screwdriver or sat Rose down next to him and gone on the errand alone. Damnit. He was going to kill him right after he kissed him.

"Go ahead and put down the chronoscope, Rose. I'll do a search for him." He dumped the backpack at his feet and flipped open his wristcomm. Feelings of déjà vu overwhelmed him as he scanned for alien technology.

Oh.

Not good.

Shit. The wristcomm was brilliant in its readouts. Alien tech was everywhere. Below them, around them, in the pyramid before them. They were surrounded by it, and it was not good. Not good at all, because he had little chance of finding the Doctor in this mess.

He typed quickly, changing the parameters of the search. Bi-vascular system. That should do it.

But it did not. The wristcomm's sensors must be broken. The Doctor was a member of the only race he knew of that had a bi-vasc…

Oh. Oh no. Not them.

"Fantastic," he said bitterly, deliberately using the previous incarnation of the Doctor's favourite word.

"What?" Rose demanded. "What is it?"

"Silurians."

"Who?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Your lizard-men. Nasty race. Can't stand us primates and keep trying to reclaim the Earth. This would be the perfect launching ground for an invasion. Remote, isolated, and no one would think of checking old ruins for an invasion force." He felt exposed next to the stelae. Rose's brightly coloured shirt and the low hum of the chronoscope suddenly seemed to call attention to them. In his imagination, the forest was suddenly full of enemies. "We've got to get the Doctor and get out of here."

She nodded. "Did you find him, though?"

He tapped on the wristcomm once more, narrowing the parameters of his search. This time, he added the criteria of warm-blooded.

There.

"Yes. He's in the pyramid."

He eyed the debris-strewn side of the pyramid before turning his attention to the steps. Their best chance of finding the Doctor would be to climb the steps and look through the temple. Knowing his lover, the man probably struggled up those steps and looked for an entrance. He really was going to kill him.

"Then what're we waiting for?" Rose asked.

He turned toward her and grabbed her hand. "Rose, there's something you need to know about Silurians. They're ruthless and they don't stop. Even if you run, they don't stop. To them, we're worthless creatures that should be destroyed. And there's something else you need to know. They can make you scared. I don't mean the usual fear that everyone feels in a situation like this, I mean animalistic fear. It can fill your mind and make you want to run and hide despite your best interests or your own desires. It can paralyse you." He would not think about it, not now. He refused to think about it.

"Can you fight it off?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But only sometimes. Our best shot is to keep out of sight, and move slowly. Which means we need to be very careful from here on out. I don't want to attract their attention."

"Right." Her expression was determined as she looked at the pyramid, and he smiled. Even in the face of what could very well be a disaster, she showed courage. The Doctor was in danger. It overrode everything and anything else for her and he knew it would be just the same if he were in trouble. She really was a remarkable woman.

"Let's go."

The climb to the top was long and arduous, made doubly so by the carryall that he refused to leave behind. One never knew just what sort of weaponry might be required, and for Silurians he suspected that he would need as many as possible. When they reached the temple, all sounds seemed to be muted. The only evidence of anyone's passage was the scuff marks in the dirt on the floor left behind by the Doctor's shoes.

Rose's startled gasp caught his attention and his blaster was drawn before he realised that she was not in danger. She had fallen to the floor, fingering the brown fabric of the Doctor's trench-coat. "Where is he?"

He frowned. The Doctor did not just randomly shed clothes - not when there wasn't a bed nearby and he wasn't involved, at least. There had to be a reason. A tunnel where it would be too cumbersome to continue to wear the coat was a decent possibility. He reached into his carryall and pulled out his flashlight. The afternoon sun had long since passed overhead, leaving the temple cast in shadows. Perhaps, in the light, he would be able to find the entrance that the Doctor had used. Then, it would just be a matter of finding the Doctor.

_Scratch._

He froze in mid-movement, his hand barely touching the switch to turn on the flashlight.

_Scratch, click._

It was coming from outside, and there was only one entrance to the temple. He met Rose's eyes, using his head to gesture toward the only cover in the room - the altar. She held onto the Doctor's coat as she crouched behind the altar. He did a quick search of the area and once satisfied that they had left no other obvious evidence of their presence, he knelt beside her. His hand clenched and unclenched around the handle of the sonic blaster.

_Click, click, click._

He identified the sound as the noise made by claws hitting against the ancient stone. Silurians. They were coming.

_Click, click, click, scratch._

They were here.

* * *

The time for formalities was over. It was almost unheard of for Geneva to reactivate someone's commission, especially when one had reached his age, unless something dreadful had happened. That the Doctor was firmly embroiled in the problem was unsurprising. That he was reactivated, though, was.

He pushed aside the cup of tea that Bambera had offered him upon his arrival at HQ. "What's going on?"

Winifred sighed as she fingered the handle of her tea mug. "I received a phone call yesterday from an old friend of ours. Liz told me that she had been escorted - by a pair of armed agents - from her university offices at Imperial and taken to an office building on the outskirts of London. Once there, she was asked several pointed questions about the Doctor. When she proved uncooperative, the interrogator introduced himself - Agent Harrison Baker of MI-5. He told her that he was under direct orders from the Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister. He repeated the words in his mind, a roiling anger growing deep within his chest. What did she think she was doing? "What is she doing?"

Bambera leaned forward, resting the palms of her hands against the desktop. "That's what I want to know, Alistair. Liz is not the only one. I've received calls from Jo, Sarah Jane Smith, Mel Bush..."

He knew where this was leading. Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did any of them say what the questions were? What did Harriet want to know?"

"Liz could only relate a few of the questions. She told me that, once Agent Baker revealed his agency, she demanded to see a solicitor. But, up to that point, Baker was mostly interested in learning about the Doctor's experiences here on Earth. He seemed especially attentive to times when he was injured."

He pushed away from the desk and stood. He had to pace, had to move. "And we're certain that Baker is MI-5?"

"Yes," Bambera said. "He checked out. Major Fields reported that Baker was assigned to detached duty to 10 Downing Street according to his Director."

"And have you confirmed that Baker's orders came from the Prime Minister?" Alistair paused in his pacing when he noted Winifred's irritated look. "I have to ask."

"I know. I'd do the same in your place, and we're as certain as we can be without directly asking Harriet Jones ourselves. I'll be frank with you, Alistair. These questions have Geneva nervous on several accounts. A number of former UNIT employees, with high security clearances, have been brought in for questioning. That they're asking about the Doctor only cinches it. It's only a matter of time before they try to get to members of the military. I've already assigned Colonels Benton and Yates to duties outside of London."

Ah. He suddenly understood why he had been reactivated. It was not because they needed his help. It was because they believed he needed their protection. He sighed. "I will not run from them, Winifred. Nor will I stand for this."

Winifred ran her hand through her shortly cropped hair. "I'm not expecting you to. But, there's something else Geneva wanted me to ask. Can you contact the Doctor?"

He resumed his pacing. Could he contact the Doctor? Of course he could. All he had to do was pick up the phone. But should he? There had to be something that he could do from his end before he worried the Doctor about the Prime Minister's actions. "I can," he admitted. "But, before I do, I want to talk to Dr Shaw and Mrs. Jones to see if I can gain any insight into just what Harriet is after."

"Certainly. I've set aside the office two doors down for your use." She pressed a button on her phone and a young man opened the office door and stood to one side. "Corporal Ashton will be your liaison while you're here. However, I'm afraid that I will have to restrict your movements."

Her expression was pained as she met his furious gaze. "I'm sorry Alistair, but those are my orders. I can bring whomever you want to you, but you cannot leave these grounds."

Thoughts of his retired life suddenly seemed far more favourable than this rigmarole. "And what about Doris?"

"I've got one of my officers watching out for her. She'll be fine."

"How long am I...stuck here?" he asked though he already knew the answer.

Bambera smiled sadly. "I'll see you later, Alistair."

He really was getting too old for this.

* * *

Of all the stupid, idiotic, careless things to do. Of course he had done it. He had walked right into it. A trap. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And he called Rose jeopardy-friendly. Now he was stuck in the same maddening circumstances as ever. Only new aspect was that he was in darkness. He searched his surroundings by touch and felt cold metal bars. He was in a cage. Again.

Same old, same old.

Captured. Stuck. Outwitted by a loose stone and an ancient booby-trap. Surrounded by what he suspected were Silurians, with no light source since the one he had been using had broken his fall, and trapped. Brilliant, fantastic. It was just the sort of thing to make his day.

No. He was not the sort of man to mope about what sort of circumstances he found himself in. He was the sort of man to escape, cause trouble, disturb the peace, and make as much mischief for his enemies as possible.

He had an ace up his sleeve, a trick, something that they couldn't anticipate, something that they didn't know he had. With a smile, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver.

Thumbing the switch, his prison was bathed in deep blue light.

_Click. Clickety-clickety-click-click._

Something was coming. Something, judging from the speed and cadence of the clicks, large and in a hurry.

_Click, click, click, click, click._

Before he could turn off the sonic screwdriver, he caught a glimpse of sharp teeth widened into a snarl, and claws stretched toward him. It ran forward, the sharp clicks of its claws against the floor echoing alarmingly in the enclosed space. _Velociraptor mongoliensis_ was apparently hungry.

And it wanted him.

He shut off the sonic screwdriver.

And was left in darkness.

_CRASH_

Chalk up the tally. Score: Doctor -1, _Velociraptor mongoliensis_ - 0. The appearance of the dinosaur confirmed his suspicions. He was dealing with the Silurians. The only question was whether they were after the same tired goal - Earth and the destruction of the human race. Some species were too predictable.

The snarling of the downed velociraptor quietened and he became aware of a change in his surroundings. It was growing brighter.

He heard sounds in the hallway and he straightened his posture. Wouldn't do to slouch on the job. That was especially true when he would get to indulge in his favourite pastime - forcing the local megalomaniac to monologue. He grinned as a torch rounded the corner, held by a large clawed hand. Definitely a Silurian.

"Hello!" he said before he could see the Silurian's face. "This how you treat all your prisoners? Send in Fido to get them to talk?" His good humour failed him when he finally saw his enemy's face. He knew this one, knew him far too well. This particular Silurian should not exist. Could not exist.

He could not exist because he had destroyed him and the entire alternate Earth. This Silurian could not exist because he was supposed to be dead. Time Rams do not leave much room for error.

"Oh," he said rather eloquently.

"Doctor," Morka snarled. "I'm pleased to see you again. This time, there will be no errors."

Wasn't that just fantastic?

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Fear**

Her heart pounded dully in her chest. The rush of blood in her ears seemed loud enough that the creature outside would be able to hear it, hear her, find her. Only Jack's hand on her arm kept her from bolting, but it did not cause her fear to abate. It was there, in the room, just at the door. Blocked her in, kept there, and prevented her from escaping. It could get her. It could eat her. It could eat Jack.

She could hear the dreadful click of its claws against the stonework. The very air seemed to reek of tension and fear. It breathed, and it sounded like an ominous growl. It was coming, it was coming, it was coming.

Jack's hand tightened against her arm and the iron grip shook her from some of the fear. She turned toward him, and she could see his face was taut with the same terror that she felt. Only he seemed to deal with it far better than she.

_Click, click, click._

It was just on the other side of the altar. It only had to lean over the bench and it would see her. It would get her. She had to run. She had to get out. She had to escape. It was here, and it wanted her.

She could not move. Though she wanted to, she could not move. She could not cling to Jack as she wanted to. She could not turn to him for comfort. She was trapped in her petrified body, but she still trembled. Jack's grip turned to steel.

In the tiny portion of her mind that was not sick with animalistic fear, she wondered at her reactions. This was unlike her. What could cause this reaction? What could make her this scared?

_Hiss. Click. Click, click, click, hiss. _

It was closer. So close now that she could practically feel the air particles change directions as they impacted against the creature's skin. A lizard-man. Her lizard-man, and it wanted her.

It was coming.

_Click. Click, click, click, click.

* * *

_

He had forgotten just how strong the instinct to run could be. His jaw clenched tightly as he fought against the fear. Jack knew what it was like to encounter the Silurians, knew just what might happen should they spot them. Fear could kill. Death by Silurian or death by fear. He would far prefer the other option: Escape from Silurian.

Rose shook against him, but he dared not move to wrap his arms around her. Any small movement, any small sound, might attract the hunter's attention. He remembered the stories, remembered the experiences, and remembered just what it was like to be under a Silurian's thrall. His trainers from the Agency had called it racial-memory malaise. The Silurians could trigger primitive portions of a mammalian brain, causing them to act irrationally because of fear. No human was immune from its effects.

_Click, click, click_.

It was not so much the sound that caused his body to tense further. It was the knowledge that the monsters were real that caused his heart to pound that much faster. His hand tightened on Rose's arm to the point that were he truly able he would loosen his grip for fear of bruising her.

_Growl. Hiss. Click, click, click._

Rose's breaths were coming in short panicked spurts, her eyes wide in the twilight of the temple. If his fingers loosened even a little, he knew she would bolt. He could do nothing for her. He could barely do anything for himself.

_Click, click, click._

Maybe they would leave. Maybe they would not be spotted and they could get on with the rescue. In the cynical part of his mind that was not heavily involved in preventing himself from doing something panic-stricken, he doubted they would be that lucky.

It was, after all, one of the Doctor's usual brand of surprises.

* * *

He had always known that his past could come back to haunt him. It was really only a matter of time. Now, it seemed that time had finally caught up with him. There really was only one option that had served him well for several regenerations. He grinned. "Morka! Blimey, this regeneration really is like 'This Is Your Life.' Who else is hiding back there? Come on, people, no need to be shy! It's a party, an' Morka here's our guest of honour – or is that me?"

"How does it feel, Doctor?" Morka had apparently decided to ignore his attempt at conversation.

"How does what feel? The floor? Rather cold, really. And quite stone-like. Then again, it is stone. Rather ancient stone. Makes you wonder just how many bums have graced this jail's floors, doesn't it? Now, the bars are a newer touch. They are, after all, steel and the Mayans certainly didn't smelt steel back in their day. Can't say much for the paintwork, though, or the company. You really should take your _Velociraptor mongoliensis_ out for more walks. Might make 'im a little less irritable."

The Silurian snarled as he stepped forward, his sharp claws curling around the bars to the cage.

His grin widened. It was working. "Now there's no need to get touchy about it. Can't you take a little critique? I hear there's a good decorator on Lunar Seven in the year 200450, but that wouldn't do you much good now, would it?"

"How does it _feel_, Doctor, to have destroyed not just one world, but _two_?"

Oh. Morka would have to bring up that, wouldn't he?

"I didn't know you were fond of Jung. Or would that be Freud? Are you about to start asking about whether I wanted to kill my mother and marry my father?" He scratched his head, feigning confusion. "Or was that the other way around? Kill my father and marry my mother? This 'how do you feel' nonsense tends to be rather confrontational, don't you think? Why not ask: 'What happened, Doctor?' or 'Why did you decide to do that, Doctor?' or 'What caused that particular problem, Doctor?' Why is it always 'How do you feel?' I just don't get it." He leaned against the cool stone wall and looked curiously at the Silurian.

Morka seemed to have decided to switch tracks. Good. "I've heard stories about you, Doctor. In this universe it's always stories about the Doctor. Nothing about the Time Lords. Nothing about your planet. Just the Doctor. Always the Doctor. You haven't changed much. Appearance, maybe, but the same ruthless methods. How many planets have you destroyed now, Doctor? How many people have you manipulated before turning around and killing them?"

There had been no choice. Not then. Not now. Not ever. It did not matter how much he wanted to change history, he could not, for it was just that – history. It was, he decided, a good thing that it was him in this cell and not his previous self. He would have been consumed by his own guilt and self-recriminations by this point. Then again, that was the sort of man he used to be.

"So nice to have a fan. Are you going to give me a last meal? Or a phone call? A last wish? Something? 'Cause, otherwise, I'm afraid that I just can't recommend this cell for special merits in the '_Galactic_ _Guide to Jails and Other Such Uncomfortable Locations_.'"

"Your sense of humour is no defence. Do you have any idea what you have done, Doctor? Despite how you hide behind your words, do you know? Do you know how many you have killed? Do you know what you did to my people? My planet?"

"Oh, I've done quite a bit. Slept, faced a killer Christmas tree, had a good cuppa, had a sword fight – very Star Wars, that bit, without anyone being someone else's father. That just would've been weird. Had dinner, slept some more, went on a trip, fell in love, had an adventure, danced, played on a beach…Yeah. I'd say I know what I've done. Do you?" He looked innocently at Morka. Judging by the being's expression, he was rather annoyed. Good.

Morka's third eye began to open, a red beam piercing the torchlight. That was not what he had intended, not at all. Before he could do more than brace himself, the eye fixed him in its baleful gaze. He felt Morka's words in his mind.

_So many lies. So many falsehoods. So many deceptions. Where does the truth begin in your world, Doctor? Do you see them? Do you see my family? My children? My future? They were destroyed because of you. All because of you._

Pain shot through him as he struggled against the telepathic rapport. He would not allow the Silurian to rummage about in his mind. He could not allow this!

"Release me," he ordered through clenched teeth.

_Now, Doctor. Now you will know. You will know what it felt like to lose everything. This planet will be ours once again, and you? The same thing will happen to this you as your brash white-haired earlier incarnation. This is your destiny. This is your fate. This is your punishment._

He screamed.

* * *

He could read and re-read the pages of notes that he had compiled over the course of the past hour. He could change their order or read them back to front. It would not change his conclusions. Nothing, it seemed, had changed over the past month since Christmas.

Torchwood was, admittedly, in UNIT hands, but that was it. That was all. Harriet Jones was still burning from her actions on Christmas Day. She was still aching from the health scare and votes of no-confidence. She had apparently decided that the Doctor was the Earth's next enemy.

He shoved the papers away in disgust. Foolish woman! Foolish, frightened woman! Didn't she know? Couldn't she guess? The Earth existed, continued to exist, because of the Doctor. And she saw him as an enemy.

Harriet Jones was fishing. She was trying to put together a portfolio of the Doctor – in as many of his incarnations as she could. He picked up his mug and took a sip of the lukewarm tea with a grimace.

His eyes drifted toward the phone that lay on the faux mahogany desk of the office Bambera had so thoughtfully assigned to him. The enforced restrictions to UNIT HQ grated his sensibilities, but there was only one way that he could go home. Only one possible way to shut Harriet Jones' fishing expedition down.

Just one.

He picked up the phone and began to dial from memory.

* * *

She heard the Doctor scream.

Her terror spiked. What could cause the _Doctor_, her Doctor, to scream? He was in pain. He needed her, but the creature would find her. Would get her and eat her, but the Doctor _needed_ her.

She heard the Doctor scream.

She had to get to him. She had to save him. She had to do something, anything, but she could not _sit_ here and do nothing. She could not sit here like a frightened _animal_ because of some _stupid_ creature that wanted to eat her. She was better than this. Better than that. She could fight it. She could win. With Jack's help, she could win.

She tensed, preparing herself to fight. Her paralysis was over. Her fear was overwhelmed by need. She had to get to the Doctor. She had to save him.

Then her mobile rang.

And her plans were destroyed in the extreme pulse of fear that filled her body.

The clicking of the claws grew louder, rounding the altar.

The mobile rang again, echoing ominously in the too-tiny temple.

In her mind she heard another voice from another time. _Coming to find you. Coming to get you! Can you see me? I'm here!_

And it was.

* * *

It did not matter anymore. The silence was broken, their hiding spot no longer safe. He pulled out his blaster as he cursed in a language that he hoped the TARDIS would not translate.

At his side, Rose fumbled for her mobile, trying to turn it off but it was too late. The Silurian was coming. He could hear the ominous 'click, click' of its claws as it rounded the altar. He had to get her away, had to protect her. He had to work through the fear.

The alien loomed over them, casting a dark shadow over what had once been their only source of protection. No choice. He gave Rose a firm push, instructing her with a firm tone, "RUN!" He would stand for no argument.

She hesitated for a moment, but she must have seen the determination in his face because she bolted for the door without comment. Good. She would continue running, which meant he could concentrate on what he had to do. He aimed.

"Foolish primate," the Silurian said. If he were to examine the tone he might have called it sympathetic.

The third eye was opening, a glint of red in the twilight of the temple. Fear pounded through his body. The rush of blood in his ears drowned out all other sound. It was just him and the alien. Nothing else existed. Nothing else could exist outside of the fear.

The fear did not control him. He controlled the fear.

He pulled the trigger.

But, before the trigger could fully depress, the weapon was torn from his hands though no claw had touched him.

The eye was open.

He fumbled for his knife, the carbine, the backpack. Something, anything that he could use. There had to be something. There had to be! He had to get to it. He had to...

The eye glowed. Red filled his vision as he stumbled back. He had to find something to fight it. Something.

The red was everywhere. It was everything. It filled his existence. It was his existence.

Red and pain were everywhere. They were his everything. In the smallest part of his mind, he spared a last thought for Rose and the Doctor. It wasn't supposed to end like this…

But it did.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Run**

Run.

Run, run, run, run. The word was a mantra for her pace. Run, run, run. Footstep after stumbling footstep, she scrambled down the pyramid. She did not dare look back; she knew that just behind Jack it was coming.

Run.

Her side burned from the exertion, but she could not stop. She must not stop until she reached the TARDIS. She had to make it. Jack had to make it. They had to make it to the ship and once there they could come up with another plan. They had to rescue the Doctor, but she couldn't. Not now. Not when the monsters were coming.

Run.

She heard the crackle of twigs in her wake as something large followed after her. It wasn't Jack - he didn't growl, he didn't make a hissing noise, he didn't...

She dodged to the side as a red lance of something shot past her to impact nosily against a tree. Rose put on an additional amount of speed. She could see the tantalizing hint of blue through the foliage. She just had to go a little bit further and she'd be safe.

"STOP!" a voice commanded, but she ignored it. She had to run.

The TARDIS. It was there. She fumbled for the key around her neck, cursing as it caught in her clothes. There was no time. No time.

"Come on, come on, come on," she chanted to herself.

Another beam shot past her, and she danced to the side. No time.

There, she had it. Key into the lock. There was no time. Turn the key. She heard the crashing of the creature through the brush. It was coming.

No time.

She opened the door and dodged inside. "JACK! C'mon!" she shouted. However, when she turned, he was not there.

The Silurian was.

No time. She couldn't look for Jack. She couldn't do anything.

The creature's third eye began to glow a brilliant red. No time.

She slammed the doors shut.

And the fear was gone. Just like that, a switch had been flipped in her mind and she could think again. She darted to the console, her inexperienced fingers bumping clumsily against the controls. "C'mon, old girl, show me the outside. Show me." A vision of Jack's body crumpled somewhere, in pain or - even worse - dead danced in her head. No. She would not think like that.

Jack was alive.

The Doctor was alive.

And she had to do something to make sure it remained that way.

The TARDIS groaned in protest, but a moment later, the screen on the console changed to an exterior view rather than the incomprehensible geometric designs that were the Doctor's native language. She peered at the image as it moved, pausing as she found the Silurian - still shooting angrily at the TARDIS. From the safety of the interior, her earlier fear seemed silly and juvenile.

This was not helping her find Jack. She continued to scan the area, but she could find no indication that he had followed her. He must've stayed in the temple to cover her escape. The silly, stubborn, idiot had done the noble thing and stayed. She was going to kill him.

The mobile chose that instant to ring again. The number was unknown, but it was the same one that had contacted her earlier. The same one that, had she not been an idiot and left her phone on 'normal,' had revealed their hiding spot. She thumbed the 'talk' key angrily as she put the phone to her ear. "Do you have _any_ idea of what you've just done?"

The familiar gravelly tones of the Brigadier responded, "I beg your pardon?"

"Brigadier?" she asked incredulously. "Is that you?"

"Of course," he replied, before his gruff voice turned concerned. "Rose, are you all right?"

Something about the question just set her off. The words poured out of her. She told him about the stelae, the Doctor's reaction to the hieroglyphics, him sending her and Jack back to the TARDIS and disappearing while they were gone, that Jack detected alien lifeforms in the area and that she'd heard the Doctor scream. And then the mobile ringing in the temple, the creature finding their hiding spot, and her frantic escape to the TARDIS. All of it, an unstoppable stream of words, until she came to an abrupt halt.

The Brigadier was silent for a long moment before he asked, "Can you describe them? The aliens that you encountered - what did they look like?"

"Like fishy lizards, with fins about their face. Or maybe ridges. An' they have, I guess, a third eye that's sort of reddish. Jack said that they can make you scared or somethin' and it's true. It's true 'cause I wouldn't have left him otherwise. I wouldn't have left Jack. An' now I don't know if he's even...he's even..." She couldn't complete the words. She wouldn't let herself do so. He was alive. He had to be.

"Rose, I know it's difficult, but I need you to pull yourself together. The Doctor needs you. Jack needs you. And I need you to tell me exactly what day it is and what year."

This wasn't like her. She wasn't like this. She could pull herself together. She had to. Just like it wasn't like her to run away from anything. Especially not tall alien lizard-men. But she did. Just like a frightened little girl she had. No. She had to answer the Brigadier. For Jack. For the Doctor. She had to answer.

"It's 2007. Jack said so, but I don't know what day it is. Jus' a sec." She put the phone down and stared blankly at the controls. There had to be something she could use, something she could do to tell her what day it was. The Doctor always turned the notched dials when he was talking about what day it was going to be. Yes. That had to be where she could find out what day it was.

She picked up the mobile and read off the controls, "March…27th."

To her surprise, the Brigadier laughed. "Ah, that's perfect. Rose, it's the 26th in England. That gives me time to prepare a squad. You said you were at the ruins at Naachtun, correct?"

"Yes."

"I'm coming, Rose. Just stay there. I'm coming." With a click, he was gone.

"'Kay," she told the now-silent mobile. The Brigadier might be coming. He might even have an extra day to prepare his troops. But that did not mean she had to stay where she was. She had to face her fear. She had to rescue the Doctor and Jack. And the only way she could do that would be to go back out there.

A quick glance at the monitor seemed to indicate that her friend had departed. Wonderful, fantastic. That meant she could get back to the temple and try to find her lovers.

She had no plan, but she decided that she would take a page right out of the Doctor's book. She had no plan. But that should frighten the Silurians to no end. If not, well, she would see that it would. But first, she needed a weapon. With that thought in mind, she went deeper into the TARDIS with a goal - Jack's arsenal.

* * *

Alistair hung up the phone with a grimace. Silurians. It would have to be Silurians, wouldn't it? All thoughts of warning the Doctor about the Prime Minister's activities were banished in the face of this newest threat. Silurians. The last time he had to deal with them was not an event that he wished to repeat. He had lost a number of good men in that raid.

Right then. He knew what they were dealing with. He even knew where. Now, all he needed was Bambera's authorisation to commandeer the troops and supplies that he would need to travel to Naachtun. He summoned the aide that Bambera had assigned to him with the press of a button. "Corporal, I need you to get research to gather up any and all information that you have on the Mayan ruins of Naachtun. I need an orbital picture if we've got it, a map of the region, the political situation of the country where it's located, the works and I need it yesterday."

The too-young officer nodded. Was he ever that young? Impossible. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

When the Corporal did not move quickly enough for his sensibilities, he ordered. "Move it, Corporal!"

He was pleased by the immediate response. Ashton all but ran out of the office. Very good. Now, he needed to gather troops. To do that, he needed Bambera's permission.

Alistair left his office at a brisk pace, tugging at the edge of his uniform tunic in a habitual manner. He was too old for this, but, for the first time since he had been confined to UNIT HQ, he felt alive.

He entered Bambera's office without bothering to announce himself, brushing past her aide without so much as a nod of acknowledgement. "We've got a problem," he told her without preamble.

Winifred set aside the papers she held in her hands with a sigh. "There's always a problem, Alistair. Between alien incursions, odd lights in the sky, and Harriet Jones - that's a fact of life in UNIT."

The Brigadier shook his head. Of course it was a fact of life. This, however, this was different. This was far more urgent than anything Harriet Jones had up her sleeve. This could very well mean yet another threat to the security and safety of the entire human race.

"The Silurians have returned. I spoke with one of the Doctor's current companions - apparently they've taken control of the Mayan ruins of Naachtun. There is also an indication that the Doctor has been captured. I need a squad of your best troops and the use of one of your transports to get to the ruins."

She dropped all pretences and leaned forward on the desk toward him. "You're sure of this?"

"I'm certain," he replied. Of course he was. He knew Rose Tyler, just as he knew the Silurians.

Bambera pinched the bridge of her nose in thought. "Then, if it is the Silurians, we need to brief the troops. If I remember your reports of UNIT's last encounter with these aliens, they can make well-trained soldiers drop their weapons and run."

He nodded. "Yes. I can supply the troop commander with my report from the incident at Wenley Moor. And I will need Geneva's authorization that I will have free rein to deal with this at Naachtun. If necessary I may have to employ the Wenley Moor solution."

She winced. "The archaeologists will not care for that."

Scientists. If they only knew what he did, they would understand his decision. "Whether they care or not is irrelevant. The Silurians must be stopped - no matter what. Protecting this planet must take precedence over concern for historical artefacts."

"Agreed. If there are any repercussions from this, and I'm sure there will be, I will deal with them. I'll contact Geneva. You will, of course, be commanding the UNIT troops for this incident. You are my most experienced commander - and the only one who has experience with the Silurians. Delta and Bravo squadrons - Captains Royce and Harding commanding - will be at your disposal."

He was about to request that he be allowed to command the troops, but apparently Winifred was one step ahead of him. "Excellent. What is our ETD?"

"Three hours from now. I'll contact General Washmore at North American UNIT Command to let her know to expect you in the region. Is there anything else you need?"

He shook his head. "Not at the moment."

"I'll have my aide contact you when your transport's available. How much time do we have, Alistair?"

He smiled. "We were fortunate in this at least. We have until tomorrow - for that's when the danger was or is first detected. Tenses tend to be rather difficult to determine when one deals with the Doctor."

She looked rather confused for which he didn't blame her in the least. Before the Doctor had come into his life, talk of yesterdays and tomorrows would have given him quite a headache. "Right. I'll get this taken care of. And Alistair? Good luck."

The Brigadier smiled faintly. "I'm sure I'll need it. Thank you, Winifred."

As he turned to leave her office, a new thought occurred to him. Despite his age, despite his differences with his current situation in UNIT, he had never felt so young. He had something to do, something useful. And that, he found, made all the difference.

* * *

Pain.

It encompassed his entire existence. It left trails of fire through his synapses and pounded to the beat of his hearts in his skull.

Red.

It was everywhere. He fought against it, tried to deny it purchase within his mind, but it was far too powerful and he was far too weak.

_How does it feel, Doctor?_

He grimaced as he pushed himself back against the cool stone wall of his cell. "Do you mind? It's hard enough to think without you tap-dancing your way through my skull."

_Murderer._

"Isn't that a bit like the pot callin' the kettle black?" He winced as another spike of pain shot through his body. "What do you want from me, Morka?"

_To start? Your death would suffice._

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm rather fond of the new me and I don't plan on leaving life anytime soon. Anything else? A new tea set? A subscription to Hello! magazine? Or would you prefer National Geographic? I hear they have some lovely articles on dinosaurs."

Through his slightly blurred vision, Morka's expression seemed to darken. _HOW DOES IT FEEL?_ The mental shout rocketed through his mind.

"DO YOU MIND NOT SHOUTING?" he asked, putting as much volume as he could into the words. "I can hear you just fine in a normal speaking tone. Thanks for that."

The Silurian's tone returned to normal, which rather surprised him. _Are you curious, Doctor?_

"I'm curious about all sorts of things. The price of tea in China, the stock market, bees, trees, water, solar systems, temporal mechanics, knitting, gardening, political science, chess - oh, haven't played chess in a while, I need to pick that up again, painting, singing, walking, exploring, adventuring, prattling - won awards for that, actually - card games, starships, sailing ships... Did I mention that I also like making lists?"

_Are you curious how I survived? How the few of us that are left survived your actions?_

Of course he was. He just wasn't going to let on to that particular fact. "Oh! For a second there I thought you were curious about me. I'm rather disappointed now. That's what sort of Silurian you are, isn't it? It's all about 'me, me, me' with you. Honestly, it's not that much of a surprise. You always were."

It was a good thing that his mental strength was still - depleted as it was - stronger than Morka's ability to affect him. He spared a brief thought for his companions, hoping against hope that they were still safe. He would not wish an encounter with these Silurians upon anyone. That was especially true of people that he loved.

_You tried to kill us all, Doctor. Do not bother to deny it. But we survived. We survived because of the golden wave that protected us, and transferred us here. You tried to kill us, but even the universe knows the truth. The Silurian race must survive and it survives in us. And soon, this world will be the same as the one that you destroyed._

A golden wave? Of course! A temporal disruption could have counteracted the affects of the Time Ram. But how? What could have caused a temporal…oh. Oh. The Time War. His people had used N-forms, Black Hole-Carriers, and Bowships during the greatest battles of the War. Some of the side-effects of their use were temporal disruptions.

Of course.

If anyone was to blame for this, it was himself. His people, perhaps, but mostly himself. He had tried to destroy the alternate Silurian-controlled version of Earth. He'd had the best of reasons, since without its destruction, the universe would end aeons before it was supposed to. But that did not negate what he had done. That did not counteract his actions. That did not help him now.

Enough.

New man. No more guilt. Just dealing with what was happening now. Then was then. Now was now, and now was what was most important.

"Ah. That doesn't explain why you're doing this, Morka. Why are you going to try and re-create the mistakes that you made on your version of Earth?"

_The only mistake that I made, Doctor, was letting you live. The short, stick-carrying version of you should have been killed the instant my hunters caught your Time Lord mammalian stench. Just like the white-haired version was killed. Same events, same results. You should never have survived, Doctor._

He grinned. "But I did. I have this annoying habit of doing so. An' you know what? This is not going to be any different. Might be a new exterior, but it's still me. And I'm still as contrary as ever."

_That is what you think._

He closed his eyes, blocking out the blurred red of the Silurian's third eye. "Yeah, yeah, it is. I might as well take a page right out of my previous self's book to throw in: And doesn't that just scare you to death?"

_Such foolish bravery, Doctor. I am not surprised. And where are your companions, Doctor? I remember Bernice Summerfield, and the violent one - Ace? Do you still show them how to destroy worlds?_

"Do you still ask pointless questions? Oh, wait, I see you do. Benny and Ace, haven't seen them in years. They're off doing their own thing now, with my blessing. Why? Feeling like you want to see the old crowd again? Gather some old friends around the fireplace and talk about 'Remember when…' and laugh at the 'kids these days?' I never pegged you as the nostalgic type." He shifted against the stone wall, but he could not find a semi-comfortable position.

"You know, you really could do with some cushioning. A bed, a bench, some colour. Anything, really. This definitely isn't the best example of a cell that I've been in. It doesn't even rate a four on a scale of one to ten. Oh! Déjà vu. I think I've said that before. See what you're making me do? I'm repeating myself. Never did that before, I don't think."

_You do go on. Typical mammal. Squeal until someone bothers to listen. Squeal out your pain, your fear, and your worries. Does it help?_

It was the perfect opening. He opened his eyes and grinned. "Oh, I don't know. Does it?"

When the red filled his vision once more and the pain spiked to a new crescendo he realised that that was probably not the best choice of words.

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Just When You Think It Can't Get Any Worse**

_Scratch. Scrape. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Thump._

The odd sounds echoed in time with the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat and the dull throb of pain that characterised his current existence. He could barely remember who he was, let alone why he was frightened by the noise. Why should scrapes and scratches cause him fear?

Why was he here? Who was he? Why was he...Rose. He remembered Rose. Sending her away, watching her run, staring down the Silurian – they were just as ugly as he remembered - and then the red. Red everywhere. Within and without. He had thought that it had been the end. No more Jack Harkness. Just the red. And death.

It wasn't supposed to end like that. And it hadn't.

Focus, he firmly told himself. Focus. Step one – determine bodily status. Beyond aches and pains that he could easily associate from his being hit by the Silurian's stun beam, he seemed to be okay. Aches and pains were easily dealt with – they could be ignored.

Step two – determine the current surroundings using senses that would not give away consciousness to the enemy. Start with touch. He could feel moist air against his skin and the rough scales of the Silurian against his wrists. Hearing. He could hear the clicks of the Silurian's claws against ancient stone. He could hear the whistle of the wind and the cries of birds in the distance. Smell. He could smell moist dirt and decay. Taste. He could taste dust and decay on his tongue, but he dared not lick his lips.

Step three – draw conclusions. One, he was outside. Two, he was being dragged across rough stone. Three, he could hear at least three creatures around him, including the one that was dragging him.

Step four – plan an escape. He had to think. There must be something that he could do.

_Scratch, scratch, scrape._

"Cubaal, in wac'tZiyal!" New voices – new human voices - interrupted his concentration.

His wrists were released and he landed badly against the rough stone. Stunned, he opened his eyes to see a tribe of natives rushing toward the Silurians carrying spears and sickles. In the part of his mind that was not consumed with fighting off the effects of the stunning blow against the hard surface, he wondered at the ferocity of their attack. Surely the Silurians were affecting their concentration.

Surely the Silurians were making them afraid.

But still they attacked. Wave after wave of painted humans carrying little more than rough-hewn shields and obsidian weapons rushed the Silurians. Many of those brave warriors were cut down, either by claws or red beams from the aliens' third eye. Yet, surprisingly, they were gaining the upper hand.

Bit by bit. Step by step. They drove the Silurians back toward the ruins as they cried out in loud voices incomprehensible battle cries.

Impossible. Inconceivable. They were winning. How could this be possible? He struggled to push himself to his feet, but the sharp point of a spear against his spine made him rethink that course of action. "Right. I'll just stay where I am."

From his position against the rough stone, he watched the Silurians retreat within one of the temples. The warriors seemed to deem this worthy of a celebration, as one of them with a particularly vibrant shade of blue outlining his face grinned widely. "Ni tamka!Zina. Ni tam cimsaj!"

"Ni tam crasa? Tol krisaka!" The point of the spear was jammed further into his spine and he winced in reaction.

"Hey, mind if you take it a bit easy with that thing? I haven't exactly been having a good day."

At the sound of his voice, the blue-painted warrior approached. The other man sank to his knees and stared at his face for a long moment before he spoke. "Amer-kan? Ark-e-gist?"

Though the native's accent was atrocious, he interpreted the words to mean American archeologist. Of his possible answers, that sounded far more likely than companion to the last Time Lord. He nodded. "Yes, I am. My name's Jack Harkness."

"'U-c'aba' Jack?" The blue-painted warrior nodded before pointing at himself. "'U-c'aba' Atan."

"Your name's Atan?" he asked.

The other man grinned toothily before gesturing imperiously at the warrior who held him captive. Thankfully, the spear was removed.

"Come. Tenaam." Atan said and helped him to his feet.

"Thanks, but I need to find my friends..." Jack protested, but Atan's hand against his chest prevented him from continuing.

"No. Come tenaam. No safe."

Silently cursing the language barrier – why wasn't the TARDIS translating this?- he nodded. "Tenaam," he repeated. Rose had told him that the Doctor was part of the circuit – if something had happened to him, if he were sick or dying, the TARDIS would not be able to translate other languages. He had heard the Doctor scream in pain. He knew he'd been trapped in the pyramid with the Silurians. What if...the Doctor was dead?

"Tenaam." Atan grinned.

Surrounded by the painted warriors, he was led from the clearing and deeper into the jungle. He walked automatically, his body on auto-pilot, as fear and shock reached a crescendo in his mind. The Doctor could be dead.

He was not certain that he could deal with that.

* * *

She stared at the double doors that sealed her off from the outside world with no small amount of trepidation. Outside, the fear might return. Outside, the creature might capture her.

No.

She was better than this. She could face the fear. She could go outside. The Doctor needed her. Jack needed her. She could do this.

Rose pushed open the door.

In the semi-twilight of the forest, shadows and movements seemed enhanced. What had once been a beautiful place had gained an ominous edge. She could do this.

She took one tentative step. When nothing untoward happened, she took another, and another, until she was almost sprinting back toward the ruins.

Careful, careful, careful. She chanted the words mentally. Duck and hide. Use the brush as a cover. They could not find her, would not find her. She could rescue the Doctor. She could rescue Jack.

It would be easy, simple. Get in and get out. She could evade the Silurians. She could do this. Her hand curled around the handle of her blaster, drawing some small measure of comfort from the cold metal.

There. Her goal was in sight. She knew the Doctor was inside the pyramid, but she did not want to climb the exposed steps once more. As for Jack – well, she would have to do a methodical search. No other choice.

She scanned the ruins from her position in the shadows. No Silurians were in evidence, but she knew that they were there. Lurking in the darkness, perhaps. Or just inside that temple, or behind that stelae. However, she had no choice. To rescue the men she loved, she had to do this.

_Scratch, scrape, crack, click._

Behind her. The noise was coming from behind her. She had to move, had to get out of sight, had to find a new hiding spot.

_Click, crunch, scratch._

It was almost upon her. She bolted from cover as the fear lent her feet wings. Her goal was a stelae, cracked an eroded from centuries of exposure from the elements. It was large enough to hide her. It would protect her.

However, her attention was upon her destination – not upon her feet. With a groan of protest, the soft earth and stone gave way beneath her. For one terrifying moment, she was in freefall.

They said that one's life flashed before their eyes when certain death was upon them.

They were right.

She dropped the blaster in a frantic attempt to gain purchase against the slick grass and stone. It wasn't supposed to end like this. She could not have come so far, done so much, to die like this.

She was better than that.

Yet she still slid. Centimetre by centimetre, she slid. No. She had to stop this. She could stop this. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she jammed her fingers into tiny crevasses in the stonework.

Her arms and shoulders trembled in agony as disused muscles stretched and strained under the effort of trying to hold her weight.

Yet she slid.

"No!" she growled. It was not going to end like this. Her life would not end like this.

She dug her fingers deeper into the stonework. She wanted to live.

Her downward fall slowed and finally stopped as her fingers caught against the stone. She was going to live. Now, she had to pull herself up. She had to...

_Click, click, click._

She glanced upward at the unexpected sound. To her dawning horror, she found that she was not alone. She was staring into the angry yellow eyes of a Silurian.

* * *

Amateur.

He winced as he shifted against the wall, his entire body aching in time with the thrum of his hearts. This was supposed to be the part where one of his clever plans came into play. However, his Plan A – Annoy the Local Megalomaniac - seemed to be backfiring. He was even using his best lines, and getting shouted at in return, but they had no effect. Either Morka had far more stamina than he gave him credit for, or he was losing his touch in his old age.

_Why do you do that, Doctor? Why do you make things difficult for yourself? It would be so much easier if you just gave in. Give up. You're defeated. You're mine. And you will die. Why fight against it?_

Why did Morka prattle as much as he did? "Why not?" he asked through gritted teeth. A percussion section had apparently set up camp somewhere near his left eye and had begun to rehash the punk rock version of the _1812 Overture_. Great. Fantastic. As if it weren't already hard to concentrate.

_Why not? After everything, you ask that?_

"Yeah, I do. Why not, Morka? Why shouldn't I fight? Why shouldn't I rebel? You say that I'm yours. You say that I'm defeated. What if I told you that I'm not? A defeat isn't a defeat when the one you think you defeated doesn't think so." He wrinkled his nose in thought. "That didn't make much sense, did it? Ah, well, guess that's the sort of man I am." Was that a twitch? Maybe plan A was working...

_I'll tell you what sort of mammal you are, Time Lord. You're a killer. A murderer. And you are doomed._

Why did the local villain always use the phrase 'you are doomed?' Was it in a handbook somewhere? He had hoped Morka would not fall into the stereotype, but he was doomed to disappointment it seemed. "Is that supposed to scare me? Really?" He pointedly yawned. "That might've worked before, but it doesn't now. An' you know why?"

_You are a fool._

The Doctor pushed himself to his feet and grinned. The image was somewhat offset by his unsteadiness, but he figured that it would do. "'Cause I'm a new man, Morka. No brolly. No Ace. No Benny. Just me. I'm completely different. New body, new teeth, new mole, new hair, new suit, and new annoying habits. This is a new me.

"But you know what else? You can't scare me, Morka. You have nothing over me. You can do nothing to me. You are an amateur amongst megalomaniacs. And you bore me." That was definitely a twitch. Finally!

_I do?_ The Silurian's mental tone sounded amused. _You say that you're different, but you really aren't. Your past self was just as arrogant. I can do something to you, though, Doctor. Your care for this world is famous. Your desire to protect it, to champion it, is obvious in all of your dealings with us and with others._

_You have no idea what I am capable of. You have no idea what I can do, what I will do._

Threats. Why did it always come down to threats? He could practically write a self-help guide on it. He even had a title: 'How to properly threaten the Doctor or his companions – the essential guide for amateur megalomaniacs.'

"Honestly, I'm just surprised that you've held up as well as you have. Usually, my prattling merits some reaction beyond meagre threats. Really, am I annoying you at all? And if I'm not, would you get on with the part where you threaten me with certain death? Or the destruction of this planet, or _something_?" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Really, I'm getting rather bored. In fact, I'm so bored I'm starting to repeat myself! You could at least try to be threatening. Even a little growl might help."

He might have to compromise and change his plan a little to accommodate Morka's stubbornness. Guess it was plan B – delay the local megalomaniac enough for the cavalry to ride to the rescue. The cavalry, in this case, as played by Jack and Rose. However, for the sake of his own worry for their safety, he would prefer to skip past plan B and go straight to C – where the dashing hero escapes in a cunning and completely unexpected manner. Now if only he could figure out _how_.

Morka smiled – or at least what passed for the expression on his reptilian face. "You are right, Doctor. The time for talk has passed. The time for action has begun. You know what you have done. This is the consequence."

The Silurian's third eye gleamed brightly and images flooded his mind. It started with one human, stumbling through the streets of a major city, covered with weeping sores. It spread. Thousands upon thousands of men, women, and children – all dead. The climate of the planet roughly shifted, jungles crept over the Earth, and the Silurians rose as the dominant species on the planet. What few humans survived the plague were slaves or sport – nothing more, nothing less.

_This is the consequence, Doctor. This is the world that you have built. And I will let you see the beginning, Doctor. I will give you that at least._

His eyes narrowed as he stalked to the edge of his cell. "You have no idea what I am capable of. You have one chance. Just one. You recanted before, you can do so again. Do not rebuild that world. Do not release that plague."

_This is your consequence, Doctor. You will live with it._

"No, Morka," he corrected, folding his arms before him. "This is your consequence. No second chances."

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: The Cavalry**

Filtered through the lush canopy of the rain forest, beams of soft sunlight played upon the debris-strewn ground. Large stones, eroded and cracked over time, traced a path through the foliage. However, Jack's attention was no more on his surroundings than it was on where Atan was taking him. Instead, he worried.

He knew the Doctor. He could be hurt or dying – or dead, but he refused to acknowledge that possibility. Yet he would still fight and still struggle against the Silurians. He would do something foolish and trust in luck to save him.

How could luck save the Doctor, if he was not there?

The Doctor could be dead.

No. He would not think about it. It was not possible. He would know if the Doctor was dead, wouldn't he? He would know, because the world would skip a beat, or the sun would dim, or his heart would stop in his chest. He would know.

Right?

No. The Doctor was alive. He had to believe it. Despite the evidence, despite the fact that the TARDIS was not translating Atan's language. The Doctor was alive. He had to be.

_But what if he wasn't?_

He pushed aside the tiny, contrary voice. He had to think of something else.

He knew Rose. She would not stay in the TARDIS – if she made it. She would come after him and the Doctor. Armed, perhaps. Foolishly, yes. But she would come for them. And she would walk right into a trap.

He had to do something, but he was stuck. Surrounded by the painted warriors, he had no choice. But, while he was walking through the forest, Rose might be captured. She might be hurt. She might need him. The Doctor was probably hurt, might be dying. The Time Lord needed him, but he was helpless. His hands clenched into fists.

Unexpectedly, they walked into a clearing. People milled about the centre of what was a medium-sized village. Women shaped pottery, kneaded bread, or chattered with each other as they nursed their young. Their arrival seemed to be expected, as several of the women abandoned their chores to rush toward the newly arrived warriors.

"Tenaam." Atan told him with no small measure of pride, gesturing to encompass the entire village.

"It's nice," he managed, smiling tightly as he looked around. Maybe there was something he could do. He could try and convince Atan and his warriors to return to the ruins and mount a rescue mission. However, he could only hope that his miming skills were up to snuff – somehow he doubted 'you, lizard, pyramid' would do the job.

"Ni cutaal, piil inic! Ni Jack ca triil maasic." Atan told one of the women, who hurried deeper into the village. The blue-painted warrior then turned to him. "You, come. Tenaam si ga."

"Okay." How was he supposed to rally the locals when Atan's grasp of English was so poor?

"Ni 'u-c'aba' Morales." Atan said, gesturing toward one of the larger huts in the village. "Cutaal na mir'uk."

As if on some prearranged signal, a young woman stepped out of the hut. She was dressed the same as the natives, but something about her seemed out of place. When she saw him, she smiled. In the part of his mind that was not worried about the Doctor and Rose, he noted that she was rather pretty.

"So you're the American, huh? I'm afraid my English is not very good. Do you understand Spanish?"

He blinked. "What? Er, yes?" He understood her. How could he understand her?

"I'm Doctor Elena Morales. Jack, was it?" She extended her hand toward him and he took it automatically. He still couldn't believe that he could understand her.

Wait a minute.

He understood her.

She was speaking in Spanish. Had to be.

Which meant...

He fought the urge to grab Elena and kiss her.

The Doctor was alive!

He settled for a fierce grin. "Fantastic! It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Morales."

"Likewise, I'm sure." She smiled in return. Elena turned toward Atan as the warrior spoke to her.

"Cr'naal twis ni caam."

"Atan implies that you are an archaeologist?" she asked, peering intently at him. It felt as if she were reading his soul. He had thought only the Doctor had that particular ability.

"Yeah. I was with two fellow scientists when things went sour." He wanted to laugh. Saying that things went sour was a bit like calling water a little wet. "Wait a minute. You said Atan implied…you understand them?"

Elena smiled brightly. "I certainly hope so! I've been living with the Marsaalu tribe for the past six months. I'm working on a paper about their lives here, but to learn I had to find out how to speak their language."

Hope burned brightly within him as he stepped forward, pouring all of his charm into his mannerism and words. "Elena, I need your help. My friends are still in trouble. They're back there, at the ruins, and I need to get back to them. I need to rescue them. Would Atan and his people be willing to help?"

"I can ask." she replied. She seemed to have read his urgency as she immediately turned to the blue-painted man and spoke rapidly in the incomprehensible native tongue.

Atan shook his head. "Ni! Tal'ma'rak, atum ner tlicks!"

Elena looked apologetic. "He says that the lizards do not keep prisoners."

Atan did not know the Doctor. He did not know Rose. "They would've kept my friends. Please, I have to know. I have to…" He steeled himself from the compassion in Morales' eyes.

The warrior looked at him curiously for a moment, before nodding. "Jack."

The sound of his name made him focus on the native rather than on his own thoughts.

"Tomiciyal ni Jack, praal na caluum. tZ'aaletalaab na in wac'tZiyal Marsaalu." Atan held his fist over his heart and smiled. "Help."

Help? Atan said help. Could it be?

"He says that he can tell that you are a warrior who has seen much. In honour of your warrior spirit, and that you ask for the help of the Marsaalu tribe, he has agreed to help." Elena translated.

They would help. Hope burned brightly within him.

Atan's smile faded as he held out his fisted hand toward him. "Caluum ni tomiciyal nik'tal."

"He also adds that he, too, has lost friends to the lizards. He will do what he can."

"That's all I can ask," he replied. It was. They could provide a distraction, perhaps. Then he could rescue his friends, and once that was accomplished…well, he had a bit of a vendetta against the Silurians at Naachtun.

* * *

Alistair hated military transports. It never seemed to fail. No matter how much technology had advanced over the interim years between his presiding over UNIT in Britain and now, the military seemed to obtain its transportation from the lowest bidder. The seats were uncomfortable, the ride was bumpy, and the transport tended to reek of both sweat and gasoline.

The leg from London to Flores was, thankfully, shortened by the use of an experimental aircraft designed by the scientists who had worked on Torchwood. However, the ride from Flores to Naachtun had to be via ground transport. Humvees were never the most comfortable of vehicles, but they were made only more so by the bumpy ride over muddy and eroded paths through the jungle.

Time was of the essence. He silently cursed himself for not finding out what time it was for Rose when he had talked to her last, but he knew that should he try to contact her he would be playing a lottery – he could get a past, present, or future version of her. He mentally willed the caravan to travel that much faster. Time was running out.

As if his thoughts were a signal, the driver slowed to a stop. "Sir, Naachtun is three klicks away."

"Very good, Corporal. Captain Royce, assemble your men. Harding, stay here and guard the caravan." He climbed out of the Humvee, followed by the two Captains. Another reason that he hated military transports was their effects upon his aging body. He was definitely not a young man anymore.

"Yes, sir." The two captains saluted. Royce headed toward the back of the caravan, while Harding stayed at his side.

"Harding," he said after a moment's thought. "Get the artillery prepped. On my radio signal, I will need you and this caravan to come the rest of the way to Naachtun. It may be necessary to raze the ruins to the ground to deal with the Silurians." But it was only a maybe. He might not have to destroy the ruins, but something told him that that may well end up being the solution.

Harding nodded. "Of course, sir. Yeager, Pierce, with me." The captain signalled to his subordinates, and the three men headed to the other side of the Humvee to discuss tactics.

The soft squelch of the too-soft earth heralded the arrival of Royce and his men. "My team is with you, Brigadier," Royce reported.

He was pleased to note that the men's eyes were clear of any trepidation – they knew their duty. However, he knew the Silurians. Their clear eyes would not remain so for long. Yet, he trusted British military training. His men would keep their wits about them.

"No time like the present," he said and led the men deeper into the jungle.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as they worked their way through the jungle, heading ever closer to their destination. A bead of sweat trickled down his face, but he controlled the urge to wipe it away. The jungle was thick, which had its benefits and its detriments. Movement was restricted to short spurts before a branch, a vine, or a bush had to be brushed out of the way. But, the foliage provided his men with cover should a Silurian happen to be looking their way.

Ah, there it was. Naachtun was, if one ignored the sinister undertones of an alien invasion, a beautiful place. But, he was first and foremost a soldier. It did not matter how many years had passed since he was full time, that did not change. It might be a beautiful place, but for the moment it was a war zone for a battle that had yet to be fought.

He searched what little he could see of the city from this side of the pyramid, but he could not see the TARDIS or any indication of human or Silurian habitation. There was only one choice for it, he had to move closer. He turned toward the closest of the soldiers and signalled his intentions with hand movements. Unsurprisingly, the soldier told him with his own hand movements that he was not going alone.

So be it.

He looked in both directions before breaking cover. When he could, he avoided stepping on the stones and rubble strewn about the ground for the sake of silence. Somehow, he and his companion reached the edge of the pyramid without incident.

That was when he felt it.

Thirty plus years, and it felt exactly the same.

It was only through his iron will that he managed to control a rapidly developing sense of panic. Fear stretched its icy tendrils through his soul, but he ignored it. He was better than it. He knew exactly what this was.

The Silurians.

They were here.

His hand tightened reflexively on the barrel of his rifle. Unexpected movement behind him caused him to turn quickly. The solider that had insisted upon coming with him was not as successful at fighting off the effects of the Silurian's power. The other man's eyes were wide as he backed away, stumbling over a loose stone.

He cursed silently as he stepped forward, grabbing the soldier's arm. He prayed that the jungle noises would cover his next actions. Through gritted teeth, he spoke in a harsh whisper. "Steady on, man. It's not real."

The soldier trembled beneath his grip, but through willpower he managed to reclaim some control. "I'm all right, sir."

"You can go back," he offered, though he suspected the man would refuse.

"No, sir. I'm with you."

He was suddenly struck by how young the officer seemed. Soldiers were getting more youthful each year. Alistair gave the other man a searching look before nodding. "Very well."

With a few short steps, he was at the edge of the pyramid. The expanse of what must have been a courtyard of some kind stretched before him, broken by debris and brush. There was nothing...

No. There.

He could see the back of a Silurian. The creature was crouched over something on the ground.

Good. It was distracted. It was the perfect opportunity.

_He was being hunted._

He forced back the fear, keeping his grip on the rifle steady as he aimed.

_It was coming for him. Just behind him, just around the corner, beyond the wall. It was coming. Hunting him. He was its prey and there was nothing he could do._

Alistair was above the fear.

_He was being hunted._

He did not care.

The weapon was primed, the silencer in place. All he had to do was fire. His finger tightened on the trigger.

The creature was firmly in his sights.

Just a little further.

Just...

The Silurian stood and in its grip he could see the slumped form of a woman.

No. Not just any woman.

_Rose.

* * *

_

It was a good line. One of his best. 'No second chances.' He had been known to cause rulers, megalomaniacs, and generic villains to quake in their boots when he uttered those words. Well not necessarily _those_ words, but something similar. He had a way with these sorts of things.

However, Morka was proving to be exceptionally difficult. All his best lines, his best annoying habits, and his best lists – and all he got out of the Silurian was a threat to destroy all of the humans on the planet and then kill him. It was almost disappointing. He was hoping for something more original. Like sharks with laser beams on their heads. Wait, that was _Austin Powers_.

That also did not answer where his jeopardy-friendly companions had got themselves to. This was, after all, the point in the story where the dashing hero – played by him – was rescued by his equally dashing sidekicks – Jack and Rose. Then again, he suspected that they might object to being called sidekicks. Maybe they were more of a superhero group. Like the Time Lord Avengers. Nah, that was too camp.

And none of these thoughts were getting him any closer to either a) annoying Morka into making some sort of mistake or b) escaping through some cunning and clever plan. Nor were they helping him to find out where Jack and Rose were. Captured? Escaped? On the run? Hiding? Hurt?

Dead?

_You cannot threaten me._

Morka's voice was unexpected and caused his musings to stop rather suddenly. If he were to use a euphemism, since he was that sort of man, he would describe it as his mental train derailing. Quite spectacularly, really.

He smiled. "No? Thought I just did."

_Typical. You shout, you threaten, you whine, and yet you cannot do anything. You are captured, Doctor. You are mine._

"Yours?" he repeated in an affronted tone. "Yours? I don't see a certificate of ownership anywhere. Don't have your name tattooed on me anywhere – and, no, sorry, I'm just not going to do it either. I'm afraid I just don't think of you in that way. Hope you understand." Really, he belonged to Rose and Jack. And they belonged to him. It was somewhat complicated, now that he thought about it.

_Must you keep babbling? _

Ah. Finally. The Silurian was getting aggravated with him. Good. Might make things a bit easier that. But only a bit. Ish.

"Yes." He beamed at Morka, flashing as much of his pearly whites as possible. They were new teeth, after all. Well, sort of new. And he rather liked them. And the mole. More the mole really. "Won awards for that, you see. I'm aiming for the gold this year. Think I'll make it?"

_Unlikely. Enough of this. It is time_, Morka replied and turned toward the door.

"Remember what I said, Morka. No second chances."

_Is that supposed to scare me?_ The Silurian turned his head and met his steely gaze.

"In a word? Yes." He stalked forward, wrapping his hands around the cold bars of his cell.

"You've heard of me in this universe, Morka. You know who I am. At the risk of repeating myself – or a previous version of myself – allow me to introduce myself. To the Sontaran Empire, I am known as the Bringer of Darkness. To the Cybermen, I am the Deceiver. To the Daleks and the Draconian Empire, I am the Oncoming Storm. I am an enemy of evil, Time's Champion, defender of the defenceless and the hopeless. I am the Doctor. And you do not want me for an enemy."

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Countdown**

Of all the stupid things she could do she went and did it. Of course she did. She fell into a cenote. Just like the Doctor. And now, just like the Doctor, she was caught.

The Silurian's claws dug painfully into her already sore muscles as it hauled her roughly against it. "Who are you?" The words were spoken with a strange sibilant tone.

She kept her mouth shut. Maybe if she pretended not to understand, it would stop. Maybe if she pretended not to understand, it would...

_Who are you? _

The words were violently forced into her mind, and she felt dazed. It hurt so much more than her muscles. It hurt like the memory of gold and losing the Doctor - the old Doctor - and Jack. It hurt like the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. It hurt.

"No," she said through gritted teeth. She was better than the pain, better than the fear, better than the creature that loomed over her.

_No?_

"Yup." She tried to stand without leaning heavily against the alien, but her muscles were incapable of supporting her weight. She hurt.

_Foolish mammal._ The tone was almost sympathetic. However the Silurian's baleful gaze belied any implied kindness that the creature might possess.

Rose was about to reply when she caught movement next to the pyramid. It was the briefest of glimpses, but she thought that she had seen the reassuring form of the Brigadier. He was here. He had come.

Suddenly, the fear and the pain no longer seemed to matter.

With just a glimpse of the Brigadier, and she felt braver and stronger than before. She grinned. "Maybe I am."

The Silurian's third eye began to open, revealing a sliver of reddish light that only grew as the lid was raised. Somehow, she knew what that meant. She knew what would happen had she not seen the Brigadier.

The eye meant her death.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned. She saw movement at the edge of her vision, but she forced herself to focus upon her captor.

The creature looked rather surprised. _You wouldn't?_

With the soft scrape of a shoe against stone, the cavalry arrived. "I'd say that would be quite true," the Brigadier said as he pressed his weapon against the Silurian's side. "I wouldn't hurt her because the consequences would be deadly. Release her."

When the grip on her arms loosened, she wobbled toward the Brigadier. She was safe. The Silurian could do nothing without consequences. It was over. And now she could focus on the Doctor and...

The sharp staccato of a rifle on full automatic filled the clearing with echoing sound. She gasped as each impact caused the Silurian to shudder before it collapsed bonelessly to the ground.

She had been released. The Silurian had let her go. She'd been safe. It wasn't going to hurt her anymore. Yet the Brigadier…no. Not the Brigadier. It was the soldier. A soldier that she had not seen before. A soldier who let his battle-stance drop into a slump, his shell-shocked eyes wide and bleak.

"It was threatening her," the soldier said, but in his trembling voice she heard a different tale. He was scared. Terrified, in fact.

She knew how he felt. It was the Silurians. However, no matter how much she feared, she had not killed. Not like that. Not in cold blood. Not because of fear.

Some of her horror must have been visible in her face, for the soldier winced. "Sir, permission to return to the caravan. I..."

The Brigadier nodded. "Return to Captain Harding, Corporal. Let him know that the enemy has been sighted and give him the sit rep for the ruins."

He saluted. "Yes, sir."

"And Corporal," Alistair added. "The Silurians use a form of mind-control. Once you're finished reporting to Harding, take a break to clear your head. That is not a suggestion."

The soldier nodded and hurried toward the edge of the clearing and disappeared into the jungle. Once the soldier was out of view, she gave into the temptation that had struck her once she had first seen the comforting form of her friend.

She hugged him. "Thank you, Brigadier."

"Rose, how many times do I have to tell you it's Alistair?" he asked, giving her a brief squeeze before he let her go.

She wrinkled her nose. "I can't. It'd be like calling my Mum Jackie, or my Gran Elizabeth. 'S just not right."

"Are you implying that I'm too old for this?" he asked with a grin.

Oh. Yeah, that did sort of sound like she thought he was old, didn't it? "'Course not! That'd be like sayin' the Doctor's too old for this sort of thing. Or me. Or Jack. 'S just…"

Alistair laughed. "It's all right, Rose. I know what you mean." His expression sobered as he ushered her carefully toward the edge of the jungle. "Are you hurt, though?"

"Jus' some bruises and scrapes." She shrugged. She omitted the soreness in her left shoulder and that she suspected she might've sprained her wrists.

He looked sceptical, but he seemed to understand her determination. "Right. I need you to tell me everything, Rose. From the beginning."

* * *

The jungle seemed to fight against his movement. From the stray branches and vines to the roots on the forest floor, all seemed intent to catch on his clothes or try to make him stumble. He needed to get to Naachtun. He had to. Now. The Doctor and Rose needed him. But the rain forest wasn't helping.

"tZ'aaletalaab na in wac'tZiyal. Caalum ni tri'nik ca malam." Atan's hushed voice was barely audible over the sounds of the forest. At the blue-painted man's signal, two warriors detached themselves from their party and quickly outpaced them.

Elena Morales, who had refused to stay behind, whispered at his side. "Atan says Naachtun is just ahead. He is sending warriors ahead to scout."

Jack nodded. Though he agreed with the need to reconnoitre, he rather wished that he was the one doing the scouting. At least then he would know what was going on rather than letting his imagination run wild. He wanted the natives to provide a distraction, nothing more, nothing less. The Silurians had technology and abilities that were far beyond the tribe's ability to counteract, yet he had seen them win against the aliens. Well, not truly win, but they had forced them back.

How?

Even now, he could feel apprehension growing with him. The feeling of mental intrusion only increased with every step that they took, but Atan seemed not to feel its effects. Elena, however, shivered though the jungle was far too warm. She felt it too, but why didn't the natives?

His thoughts were interrupted by the return of one of the scouts. "ni u'caba Morales, crelenik piil inic sa ga cabal." The warrior gestured frantically at Elena once Atan had nodded his approval.

"What?" he asked. "What is it?" His inability to understand the language of the native tribe was maddening.

"There are apparently some people who don't understand the Marsaalu at Naachtun. They want me to go with them," Elena replied.

She nodded at the scout, but before she could move much further than a few paces, he interrupted her. "I'm coming with you." His tone brooked no argument. If there was someone who didn't understand the native tongue at the temple, it could only be Rose. Or the Doctor, though he doubted the Time Lord would have the same language issues that he had.

Without bothering to let her answer, or even doing more than nodding abruptly toward Atan, he gripped the spear that the warriors had thoughtfully provided and followed in her wake. Finally. Something that he could do, and a reason to move ahead to Naachtun.

His friends, his _family_, needed him.

The trees obscured his view as he followed behind Elena. The sounds of the jungle seemed somewhat muted as they approached the ruined city, almost as if the creatures themselves feared the danger at Naachtun. He sighed as he stepped over the scattered roots and rubble that traced the path. Fear had become a constant companion, but he forced it back. If the natives could handle the effect of the Silurians, then so could he.

He hoped.

The snap of a twig caused him to pause, though Elena and the warrior moved on. He noted through the corner of his eye that they were being ghosted by someone through the trees. The movements spoke not of a native's instinctual grace, but the well-trained agility of a soldier.

He was about to warn the others of their company when they moved to the side, leaving him with a clear view of the forest ahead. A group of soldiers were clustered around an older man wearing the bars of a…

He blinked. Was that the Brigadier?

The man moved, and just behind him he could see a woman wearing a colourful shirt. No. Not just any woman.

_Rose._

He must have spoken her name out loud. Her head turned and suddenly she was running. To him. She was safe. Rose was safe.

"Jack!" His name caught upon a sob as she threw herself into his arms.

"Rose." He buried his face into her hair and tightened his embrace. She was alive. She was safe.

Rose pulled away from him after brushing her lips briefly over his. She was here. She was okay. She was…

Smacking him?

He blinked owlishly at her as she shook her finger at him. "Damnit, Jack, if you ever pull that heroic 'staying behind so I can escape' thing again I'm gonna kill you! So you've been warned. But the Brigadier wants to talk to you."

Without bothering to check that he was following her, she headed toward Alistair. He was rather surprised to note that the older man was looking quite well, despite having - in all likelihood - marched some distance through the thick jungle.

He moved to the Brigadier's side, gracing the other man with a wide grin and extending his hand. "Alistair! Good to see you again."

The Brigadier nodded, shaking his hand with a firm grip. "Good to see you, Jack. And your friends?"

Oh. Right. He had forgotten about them. That really wasn't like him, but he should make some allowances for the events of the past several hours.

"Elena Morales, this is Rose Tyler and Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart. Rose, Alistair, meet Elena. And I'm afraid that I don't know the warrior's name."

Elena smiled. "His name is Cacoch."

"Pleasure. Jack, have they...?" The Brigadier's voice trailed off as he met his gaze. In the other man's eyes, he could see the question. Did they know about the Silurians?

He nodded. "Yes. They've encountered and fought the Silurians at Naachtun at least once. They rescued me from one of them, as a matter of fact."

"Good. Miss Morales, you can translate for me?" Alistair asked.

"Yes, I can. What would you like me to ask?"

"I need to speak with the leader of the natives. I'd like to ask for their help in dealing with the problem at Naachtun."

He let their voices fade away as he turned toward the city that he instinctually knew lay just beyond the trees to the north. He focused upon a point somewhere in the distance and worried. Rose was safe, yes, but the Doctor was not. And, knowing the Doctor, he was in deadly danger.

Time, he knew, had started to run out.

* * *

He was rather proud of himself. The 'you don't want me for an enemy' line belonged right up there with 'no second chances.' Maybe he should start a list of the best lines to deliver to the megalomaniac of the moment. Though it might be a little awkward to hold up a hand and ask for the evil-doer to wait while he pulled out a list. He'd have to rethink that option.

_I could say the same thing,_ Morka finally replied. _However, you already have me as an enemy, Doctor. Those names - they are just titles. Figurative speech. They mean nothing. They are nothing. As are you. I will return to allow you to watch as this planet returns to its rightful owners. I do hope that you weren't too attached to this life. It will be your last._

There had been only one time, just one, where someone had killed a version of himself and he had not regenerated. On an alternate Earth in an alternate history - the same alternate world that had spawned Morka and his kin - his third self had died. No regeneration. No more Doctor.

However, that planet had been created. That history had been spawned and moulded due to the machinations of one of his people. His death had been orchestrated. The Silurian could kill him - this version of him - yes. But it would not be his last life. Not yet. Though it would be a record for his shortest lifetime - a record he'd thought his ninth incarnation would hold. That, however, did not answer Morka's monologue.

That was another thing that he did not understand. Was there something about him that encouraged the local megalomaniac to indulge in a monologue whenever he was about? True, it tended to give him time to come up with another option, but now he was rather tired of it all. "You've had your warning, Morka. What you do now is on your conscience. Not mine."

_What? No prattling, no lists, no threats?_ The Silurian seemed astonished.

He shrugged. "There's a time for everything, and everything for time. Or something like that. Really, I can't be charming all the time. Might get a little boring, that. And that's not the sort of man that I am. Definitely not boring."

Where were they? All his best lines, all his best annoying habits, all his best options, and nothing. No Jack. No Rose. Just him and a Silurian with delusions of grandeur. Just him and no plan.

No way out.

And if he did not think of something soon, well…time was running out. Not for him. Not really.

But for the entire human race.

* * *

He was a man of action. Give him a mission and he would complete it to the best of his ability. However, part of those missions inevitably meant waiting. Waiting for supplies, waiting for soldiers to arrive, waiting for transport, or waiting for targets to reveal themselves.

He hated waiting.

And now, he was doing it again. He knew, with the certainty of his long experience, that this lull would not last for long. The Silurians would not let the death of their comrade pass easily. Indeed, he was quite astonished that the calm had lasted this long.

The snap-crack of a branch being pushed aside caused him, and every soldier in his company, to turn as one toward the sound with their weapons at the ready. Even Rose and Jack were not immune to their movements as they echoed them. The foliage parted to reveal the first of what turned out to be twenty colourfully-painted locals.

"Stand down, men," he ordered, shifting to an at-ease stance. His relief was almost palpable, but he did not allow it to appear in his expression.

The young woman, Elena, turned toward him and gestured toward the brightly-painted warrior who had moved to her side. "Brigadier, Atan is the leader of this tribe. You wished to speak with him?"

"Yes, yes, I did. We need his help. His people know this jungle - how to move silently, where the best hiding places are, and how to sneak closer to Naachtun without the enemy noting our presence. My people will take care of the attack, but we would like Atan's help to approach the ruins without detection. Time is of the essence."

And he was back to waiting. Listening to the rapid-fire exchange between Miss Morales and Atan, he tried to determine what the words might mean but he eventually decided they were best left to it. He had to trust the woman to relate his words to the best of her ability. However, that did not make the waiting any easier.

Alistair could feel the seconds turn into minutes as time slipped away. The same strain that he felt was echoed in Rose's and Jack's eyes and he spared them a comforting glance. They were worried about the fate of the Doctor. He, though he had known the Time Lord in many incarnations, had faith. The Doctor might be in the middle of this particular brand of trouble, but he could handle himself.

The Doctor was fine. He would just need a timely rescue. Some things, after all, do not change. No matter the incarnation.

"Brigadier? Atan has agreed. Members of his tribe will accompany your troops as you see fit," Elena said.

He smiled. Now, finally, the waiting was over. It was time for his orders. Asking Elena to translate, he sent one-third of his troops to scout the area with Atan's people leading the way.

Alistair tapped his chin thoughtfully before he spoke. "The Doctor is probably still inside the pyramid. We cannot use the same entrance that he did, so our most likely point of entry for the pyramid is at the base of the steps or through one of the nearby ruins. Elena, does Atan know of another way inside?"

Elena did not have the chance to translate his words as his radio beeped urgently. "Phoenix, this is Greyhawk. The party has started. Repeat. The party has started."

That sobered him immediately. For the benefit of those without military training, he translated. "They're coming."

In the distance, he heard the sharp rat-a-tat-tat of weapons fire. Roars and other unintelligible sounds echoed eerily through the forest and he lifted his radio. "Harding, this is Phoenix. Come home. Repeat. Come home."

He had the feeling that they would need the heavy weaponry.

And he felt the fear begin to build.

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: The Wenley Moor Solution**

Torchlight played upon the walls, casting flickering shadows that alternately lengthened and shrank depending upon how the Silurian moved his hand. He watched the dance of light with an absent-minded expression, ignoring for a moment the threat that Morka held over his head. There had to be a way. There had to be something that he could do. Something, anything, that could stop this.

He heard, as if from a great distance, a muffled sound that seemed akin to weapons fire. Weapons fire? He focused on the tiny sound, tuning out the sound of the flames, Morka's breath, and the rush of blood through his body.

Yes. There it was again.

Weapons fire. Not just any weapons, either. It was not a sonic blaster. It was a projectile-weapon. And, unless he missed his guess, that was the signal that the cavalry had arrived. He knew those guns.

It was UNIT. Had to be. How Rose and Jack had managed to get hold of UNIT was beyond him, but it was there. Unmistakable in its sharpness.

His lips stretched into a satisfied smile. "Do you hear that sound, Morka? That is the sound of an empire collapsing. _Your_ empire."

The Silurian closed his eyes, communing – he assumed – with the others of his race. When Morka opened his eyes again, he hissed under his breath, his movements sharp and angry. _What have you done? Charlob is dead. More of my people are being attacked. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?_

The words jolted through his mind and he staggered at the onslaught. Raw synapses flared with pain and agony in the mental scream's wake. "I'VE DONE NOTHING! Don't you see? You did it all yourself."

_It is time._ Morka turned on his heel and left the room.

He knew where the Silurian was heading. He knew what was about to happen.

He had to get out.

He had to get out _now_.

Morka had taken the light with him, leaving him in darkness. No matter. He had the sonic screwdriver. Strange, come to think of it. Why hadn't he been searched? He could've carried a weapon. He could've done a lot of things, but Morka had not even bothered to check him over.

He was a new man. But Morka did not seem to care.

It was probably part of the megalomaniac psyche. Morka had beaten a version of himself once, after all. Might've gotten cocky. Or something. Shrugging off the thought, he thumbed on the sonic screwdriver. Holding the device between his teeth, he began to feel the walls, the floor, and the bars. There had to be a weak spot. There had to be a way out of this mess before Morka released the plague.

Nothing.

No cracks. No seams. Nothing to indicate another hidden passage or a loose bar. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. There had to be something.

Wait.

He had fallen through the ceiling to get to this particular vacation spot. Maybe, if there was nothing on the ground, he could just go up. He tilted his head and cast the light from his screwdriver on the roof. Ah-ha. There it was. Now all he had to do was somehow manage to brace himself between the wall and the bars to reach it. Ignoring, of course, the painful ache in his ankle while doing so.

Now he realised his problem.

He had missed his calling in life.

He should've been an acrobat.

* * *

Naachtun had become a war zone. Artillery fired from all around her, punctuating the sounds of the jungle with their rapid retorts. The soldiers were scared. She could see it in their eyes, in the way they held their weapons, and in the way they fired erratically at every movement. Ancient stone exploded into tiny fragments with projectile impacts at the feet of the advancing wave of Silurians.

In her mind, the sense of intrusion began to grow. She was being hunted. They all were.

No.

She shoved the thought aside. She was better than that. It was not going to get the better of her this time. This time she was strong. This time she had Jack. This time she was going to rescue the Doctor.

She looked past the oncoming aliens to the pyramid. That was her goal. The Doctor was still in there, he still needed her, and she'd had enough. Was fed up with waiting. Was fed up with sitting to one side while the others fought her battles for her.

No.

Now it was her turn. She had to get to the Doctor. He needed her, and she was not ready to deal with the loss of the man she loved for the second time. No choice. She did not bother to tell Jack her intentions. She had barely decided before her feet moved for her, dodging red Silurian beams and friendly fire.

She had one goal.

The pyramid.

And from there, the Doctor.

* * *

What the hell did she think she was doing?

He had looked away from her for just one second – and only one – to aim at one of the Silurians and squeeze off a shot. The next moment, she was gone. Running through the battlefield, dodging bullets and Silurians, at a reckless pace.

He was going to kill her.

Oh, he knew what she was planning. He had planned it himself, but not until the crossfire had died down. Now he had no choice. Sparing a brief, "See you in hell," to the Brigadier, he was off.

She should've waited for him. She should've thought about it before she ran through a battlefield. He couldn't protect her out here. How could he? The crossfire was far too thick for his liking, and as he dodged the blasts he moved too close to one of the Silurians. It growled, and, lifting a clawed hand, it took a swipe at his undefended right side.

That was when it happened. That one crystal clear moment wherein his senses were enhanced with the battle. He saw everything. Every movement, every breath, every gesture the Silurian made. He could anticipate it. He danced to the side and, a moment later, the creature collapsed to the ground from UNIT fire.

Rose.

He spotted her just as she began to climb the pyramid. She wanted to get to the Doctor. So did he, but he was not the one taking foolish risks. She should've waited.

No matter. What was done was done. Now was the time for action.

Throwing caution to the winds, he lengthened his pace into a sprint. Somehow, he managed to cross the battlefield without further incident. Now all he had to do was follow her up the pyramid, avoid friendly fire, and be able to kill her – well, give her a talking to at least – without running out of breath or injuring himself.

Simple.

The ascent took far less time than he had remembered. However, he knew that fear – fear for Rose, fear for the Doctor, and even fear for himself – had lent his feet additional speed. When he reached the top, he found Rose searching the walls of the temple.

"Damnit, Rose, what the hell did you think you were doing? You could've been killed!" Anger had replaced his earlier fear and he knew that the emotion laced his tone.

He was somewhat gratified when he saw her flinch. "The Doctor needs me." Her voice was quiet as she replied, but she did not apologise for her actions.

Of course she didn't. If he thought about it, he was mostly angry because she had thought of it first. "So do I."

"I know. Believe me, I know. But the Doctor...Jack, he needs us an' I can't just let 'im stay wherever he is, injured or perhaps dying, without me." She turned away from him to scratch against the wall, tracing the outline of what appeared to be a hidden entrance.

He wanted to tell her that he wasn't strong enough to deal with both of them – Rose and the Doctor – injured, or dying. That was why he was angry. It was fear. However, he told her nothing. Now was not the time. "Me either."

Jack gently pushed her aside as he applied his greater strength to the door. It took a few minutes for him to prise away the stone slab, but once it was gone it revealed a tunnel that disappeared into blackness.

He no longer had his carryall with him – that had been confiscated by the Silurians – nor did he have the means to light their way down the tunnel. He was about to mention both facts to her when she held something out to him.

In her hands was a slender flashlight. He shot her a questioning look and she shrugged. "Thought I might need it. 'Fore I got into trouble with the cenote and the Brigadier had to save me, that is."

"Trouble with a cenote?" He arched an eyebrow at her as he turned on the penlight. In his other hand he held the pistol thoughtfully provided by the Brigadier.

"Yeah. Decided I wanted to be a bit more like the Doctor today, I guess. It forgot to leave out the 'Closed for Business' sign." Rose grinned.

He shook his head. "So that's it. When you follow me, keep one of your hands on my ankle." Without waiting for another reply from her, he got to his hands and knees and crawled through the entrance. The tunnel was a bit tight, especially for his broad shoulders, but he was able to move with relative ease. In the brightness cast by the penlight, he could see evidence of earlier passages – both by the Doctor and by something with clawed feet.

Great.

It would be just his luck to have a toothy dinosaur with dinner on its mind to be in the same tunnel as him.

Wait a moment. He aimed the penlight at the floor. Indications of the Doctor's passage had come to an abrupt halt, as if there were… Ah. Of course. He could barely see the thin lines that indicated the presence of a trap door.

The Doctor had fallen into a trap.

Why did that not surprise him?

Shaking his head, he searched for the trigger. It would be a loose stone on the floor or on the wall. Something not so obvious to a careless passer-by. And there it was. Inlaid into the wall was a stone that was just barely off-colour with the rest of the tunnel. That must be it.

"Rose, move back a little. I'm about to trigger a trap door and if I've misjudged how big it is, I don't want you to fall in," he whispered over his shoulder.

Her hand squeezed his calf in acknowledgement and a faint shuffle from behind told him she was obeying his instructions. Well, no time like the present.

He activated the trap door. As the stone floor dropped away, he peered downward to see the Doctor's grinning face. Though he knew that his lover lived, to see him, grinning like nothing was wrong, was shocking.

"Blimey! Jack! I was wondering when you'd show up. Brought the cavalry, too, I see. Well, don't just stand – or kneel – or crouch there looking at me. Give us a hand up."

Shaking himself out of his shock, he reached downward and grasped the Doctor's wrists. Several heaves, and whispered instructions to Rose, later, he managed to haul the Time Lord into the tunnel.

With their faces merely inches apart, he could not help himself. He moved forward just enough to press his lips against the Doctor's in a brief, hard kiss. When he pulled away, his friend looked somewhat dazed. "Don't ever do that again."

At least the other man had the good grace to appear somewhat sheepish. However, the expression changed abruptly, as if something had just come to mind that was far more important. "Jack, we've got to move, and quickly. Time's running out."

"Right." He turned his head to look over his shoulder. "Rose, head out. The Doctor and I'll be right behind you."

As they began to move, he realised that there was another noise in the tunnels. Not the soft scrapes of their movement, but something far more sinister.

Wait.

He knew that sound.

_Click, shuffle, scrape, click._

It was the sound of claws against the stone. The tunnel was too small for a Silurian. Something else was in the tunnel with them.

"Move!" he ordered, keeping a firm grip on the Doctor as he doubled his pace. They had to get out. The creature was coming.

_Click, shuffle, scrape, click, clickety-click._

The cadence of the creature's movement increased in tempo. It was running. Abruptly, he found himself in the open air of the temple. He pulled the Doctor outside and in the dim light he could see the eerie glowing eyes of the dinosaur that approached them.

The Time Lord had the same idea as he did. Their hands closed over the stone that had covered the secret entrance. They heaved.

The dinosaur was closer.

_Click, shuffle, scrape, click, clickety-click._

The stone moved.

_Click, shuffle, scrape, click, click, click._

The entrance was almost closed.

_Click, shuffle, scrape, click, clickety-click._

The tunnel entrance was sealed. A loud thud echoed in the temple and the stone shuddered beneath their grip. They were safe.

For now.

"No time," the Doctor said and grabbed their hands. With a grin, he told them, "Run!"

So they did.

Or, rather, they tried. The Doctor took two steps before his pace slowed. He winced, favouring his foot, and Jack cursed himself for not remembering. Of course! Had it only been that morning when the Doctor had almost fallen into the cenote?

His friend had said time was of the essence. There really was only once choice for moving fast, especially given the Time Lord's injuries. Ignoring the sudden indignant protest, he hefted the Doctor over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Now they ran. Down the steps and into the battle. Past Silurians and UNIT soldiers locked in hand-to-hand combat. Through the crossfire of red beams and bullets. To the Brigadier, where he carefully set down the Doctor.

When he was shot an aggravated look, he shrugged. "You said time was running out."

The Doctor shook his head before turning his attention to the UNIT officer. "Brigadier! Good to see you. It really is like school reunion week, isn't it? First Morka, now you. Who's next? Did you bring Liz or Jo with you? Eh, don't answer that. First things first and next things next."

Alistair's expression took on the aspect of the long-suffering. "Ah, Doctor. Nice to see you, too. And in the thick of things, as usual."

The other man's smile faded as he looked at the Brigadier. "We have a problem, Alistair. Morka – the leader of this merry little band of Silurians – has a plague that can wipe out every human on this planet."

"You're sure...wait, of course you're sure." Alistair scratched his chin thoughtfully. Even though the battle was still raging around them, in this small area it seemed that they were in the eye of the storm. "Do we have a chance of stopping him before he releases the plague?"

"I don't know."

And then the storm returned. The sound of bullets ricocheting, the screams of the dying around them, and the growl and hiss of the oncoming Silurians combined into a violent cacophony of sound that overwhelmed the normal jungle noises.

He knew what the Doctor meant, now.

Time _was_ running out.

* * *

Alistair glared at the pyramid, his hand clenching and unclenching around the barrel of his rifle. The fear was omnipresent now. The sight of the Silurians, even after all these years, still astounded him. That they could exist – that they could still exist – was amazing in and of itself. Yet if the Doctor's words were true, and he had no doubt that they were, he had no choice.

It was Wenley Moor all over again.

He pulled out his radio and hit the press-to-talk button. "Harding, Phoenix. ETA to home, over."

"Phoenix, Harding. ETA two minutes." The tinny voice crackled from interference. Good. They were almost here.

No choice. "Harding, Phoenix. Prep the Moor solution."

"Roger."

And that was it. On his order, Naachtun would become nothing more than a charred crater. To protect the human race, there was no choice.

"What is the Moor solution?" the woman, Elena Morales, asked. Of course, he had forgotten about her and the tribal leader as he had considered the Doctor's words.

"Something permanent. Doctor, I..."

"What do you mean, permanent?" Elena grasped his arm, and he looked at her hand with disdain.

"Just what I said, Miss Morales. Now release me." Civilians. Some he had use for – Jack and Rose – but this one had started to get on his nerves. This was despite her usefulness as a translator.

"Not until you tell me what that means!" she replied, giving his arm a firm shake.

"Ni cra malik icun-a Tan-le cranik!" Atan contributed, brandishing his spear threateningly.

"Would you all be QUIET?" The Doctor's last word was shouted as he looked at them all. "Thanks for that. Miss Morales, is it? I'm the Doctor. Nice to meet you. Now, have you ever seen the end of the world?"

She looked at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face. He was unsurprised. This version of the Doctor seemed to have that affect on people. Then again, most of his incarnations tended to do that.

"No? Well, you're about to unless you let Alistair's arm go. Now calm down your spear-wielding friend over there and let's get on with saving the world, yeah?"

Elena's hand loosened and he wrenched his arm away from her with an annoyed look. Civilians. "Doctor, do you know where Morka has gone?"

Before the Time Lord could respond, a voice carried over the battlefield. "DOCTOR! BEHOLD YOUR CONSEQUENCES!"

He turned, as did his companions, to see a Silurian – whom he assumed was Morka – brandishing a large cylinder over his head in front of the pyramid.

The plague.

It had to be.

* * *

Another day, another battle, another megalomaniac bent upon world domination. This time it was a plague. Strange, even through the fear, that she regarded this situation as a matter of course. She had almost lost the Doctor. She had almost lost Jack. However, they had made it.

Even now, surrounded by UNIT soldiers and facing who could only be Morka holding a canister full of certain death over her head, they had made it. She glanced at the Doctor's face and noticed Jack, standing to his other side, doing the same. To others, it would appear expressionless, but she could see the tiny twitches of his muscles as he thought furiously as to what to do next. She noticed the lines of pain around his eyes but that pain was overwhelmed by his determination.

"Cease fire!" the Brigadier snapped, and all the UNIT soldiers within hearing range stopped. That was good. A stray bullet could puncture the cylinder and release the plague.

Now it was up to them – or, rather, the Doctor. "Seems you've got me over a barrel, Morka." His voice somehow managed to carry, despite the heavy breathing and soft hissing of the Silurians.

"EVERYTHING YOU CARE FOR, DOCTOR! EVERYTHING DIES!" The Silurian was mad. He had to be. All talk and no action. Either that or he did not really mean it. Even after everything that had happened she suspected that he was looking for a way out.

The Doctor's voice was cold as he replied. "You've heard my warning, Morka. You know the consequences."

The Silurian snarled as his claws closed over the cylinder and he began to twist. She could see thin vapours escaping from the seal. He was doing it. He was going to kill them all.

Then she heard the Brigadier's voice. "Fire."

A loud thump echoed through the forest and a strange whistling sound echoed overhead. She saw a flash of a missile impact against the side of the pyramid and a heartbeat later Morka, Naachtun, and the entire battlefield were consumed in flames.

As the rumble of the explosion faded away into the sounds of a roaring fire, the Doctor turned from the rubble. His expression was unreadable as he moved away from the ruins. In his eyes she could see shades of his former self. "That's what sort of man I am, Morka. No second chances."

"Doctor?" she asked quietly as she stepped to his side and entwined her fingers with his. "You all right?"

He smiled faintly but he chose not to answer in words. Instead, he pulled her unresisting form into a hug. She felt the frantic beating of his hearts begin to slow as he murmured something unintelligible into her hair. When he finally pulled away, it was only enough so that he could look into her eyes. "I will be."

She smiled as she leaned up to press a gentle kiss against his lips. "Yeah," she agreed as she rested her forehead against his. "You will."

She knew how this affected him. She knew how, even when it was inevitable, he regretted the deaths of others. Even the Silurians. Even this Morka.

That was what sort of man he was.

And it was only one small part of why she loved him.

_To be concluded..._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Endings**

The stench of burning flesh, expended fuel, and the sharp aftertaste of nitro-glycerine drifted over the remains of what had once been a beautiful artefact of a forgotten time. However, Alistair could not find it within himself to regret his actions. Had Morka been allowed to continue, he would have released the plague. All human life on the planet would have died.

It was Wenley Moor all over again.

"Another day, another battle. No matter how many years have passed, little changes, eh, Doctor?" He slung his rifle over his shoulder and turned to face the Time Lord.

His pin-striped suit looked rather worse for the wear, as did his general dishevelled appearance. It was only through long experience with the Doctor – any version of him, at least – that he noted the lines of pain around his eyes. Even though the other man professed not to be a soldier, he embodied that particular aspect of soldiering far too well. Never give up, never say die. And ignore pain. No matter the cost.

"Rarely does," the Doctor agreed. A flicker of something – sorrow, anger, regret? – darted across the other man's face as he turned back toward the remains of the pyramid. "I need you too keep your men back for a little while longer, Alistair."

"We need to check for survivors," he replied. He did not add that any living creatures in the rubble would be dealt with. Permanently.

"We don't know if the plague was destroyed. Until I know for certain, I don't want a human anywhere near that battlefield, understood?" The words were snapped, but beneath the apparent anger he knew the truth. He had finally identified the emotions on the other man's face. Worry and fear.

The Doctor had always carried a great burden upon his shoulders, but at this moment his form bore the shape of Atlas bowed under the weight of the world. "Doctor…"

One glance from the Time Lord was enough to stop his protest. There was no use in arguing with him when he looked like that. He nodded. "Go on, then. Give us the all-clear as soon as you can."

"Doctor, it won't affect you, yeah?" Rose asked as her brow furrowed with worry. "If the plague wasn't destroyed, that is."

"I have a get-out-of-infection-by-plague-free card," the Doctor said with a faint smile. "I'm not human." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and thumbed it on. The faint blue glow contrasted harshly with the dusty light filtered through the still-settling dust from the explosion, giving his face a faintly sinister appearance.

"Be careful." Alistair said, moving to the side as the Doctor limped past.

He was a man of action, but he could do nothing. The Doctor was right. By sending any of his men, or accompanying the Doctor himself, he would be condemning them to possible infection by the Silurian plague.

So, now, he had to wait.

"I hope you're happy." Elena Morales' voice was sharp as she spoke from behind him. "Not only have you just destroyed a priceless archaeological site on a mere whim, but you've just let an injured man go and do your job for you. I'm going to file a report with the United Nations and the scientific community for your gross negligence, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart."

Civilians. Sometimes, he rather hated the restrictions placed upon him because of his post. Otherwise, he would feel free to tell Miss Morales just what he thought of her threats. "Miss Morales, I assure you that whatever complaints you have regarding my activities here will be heard by the UN – and dismissed. Protecting the planet takes priority over your ruins."

"Protecting the planet?" Elena scoffed. "You're just playing shoot-the-dressed-up-terrorists."

"They're aliens." Rose contributed in a matter-of-fact voice. "Real aliens and not blokes dressed up in funny suits. I know 'cause I've seen them. I've had to run from 'em, and they're definitely not humans."

"You're crazy." Elena replied, shaking her head. "All of you. Crazy! Thinking that dressed-up terrorists are aliens? You belong in an asylum!"

He spun to face her, astonished. "My God, woman. You honestly think that that's all the Silurians were? Costumed terrorists? They were about to release a plague that would kill millions."

"There were other ways. Other things you could've done. Did you talk to them? Try to negotiate? No. You just shouted at them and gave the order to bomb them. Destroy an ancient city just because you were too..." The woman's words were cut off by Atan's hand on her arm.

"nr'Gliktic ar'maliku natum caalu melel ternam," the tribal leader said. Atan's face wore a slightly shell-shocked look as he glanced at the burning remains of Naachtun.

"Taalum kr'naalik!" Morales snapped. She seemed rather disconcerted by whatever it was that Atan had told her.

"Caalu melel." Atan repeated.

Elena shook her head, but some of her earlier anger seemed to have faded. "Atan does not blame you for what you did. The sacrifice was worth it – he knows that the Silurians were evil and had to be stopped. However, that does not excuse you for your actions, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart."

"You think I'm looking to be excused? Miss Morales, I am a military man. All I require is that the job that I am assigned is completed to the best of my ability." Alistair turned from her and faced the smoldering battlefield.

"And that includes sending an injured man into that to do your dirty work?" He caught her gesture out of the corner of his eye as she indicated the debris-strewn clearing and the slow-moving form of the Doctor.

"If it is necessary and he's the only man to do it? Yes." He knew without seeing her face that she was furious with him and his answers. Sometimes that was what being a military man was about. He made no excuses and offered no apologies.

Not for this.

Not when the fate of the Earth was at stake.

Even when one of those imperiled lives refused to see what was just in front of her nose.

* * *

_Step, step, shuffle, limp, slide, skip._

The soft noises of his passage sounded like thunder against the crackle of the flames. This was the world that he built for himself. Death, life, and death once more. It was a vicious circle.

Once upon a time, when he was younger and older and carried a brolly, he had killed. He had destroyed an entire planet for the sake of the one he walked upon now. Yet the past was doomed to be repeated, especially if one's name was the Doctor.

There were no once upon a times. Not here. Not now. He was a new man, yes. However, it was the same old story. One megalomaniac. Check. One plot to destroy either a) the planet or b) the human race. Check. Life or death choices? Check. Only one viable option as said megalomaniac decided to release his doomsday weapon? Check.

Death, life, and death.

Same old story. New him.

He could feel Rose's and Jack's eyes boring into his back, but he ignored them. Better that they stay back. Better that they stay safe. There were some things that he could not tell them. No matter how happy he seemed. No matter how he had vowed to avoid the guilt that had so characterized his previous self. Some things remained unspoken.

They always would.

_Step, step, shuffle, limp, slide, skip._

The glow of his sonic screwdriver was muted in the harsh glare of the sunlight. Amazing to think that just this morning he had worried that there would not be enough light left to explore. Not enough light left to see the wonders of Naachtun.

He had seen them, all right. Seen straight to their heart and found a little piece of his past had come back to haunt him. He had grinned cheekily, taunted the villain of the story, found the Brigadier, and indulged the tiny bit of Ace-hewn logic deep within his soul.

When in doubt? When the world was at stake? There was little that a tiny bit of Nitro-Nine could not cure.

He shook himself. No. This was not him. He was a new man. New teeth. New hair. New loves. Well, mostly new. New mole. New clothes. Bit grubby at the moment, but still relatively new.

He had done what he had to do.

The sonic screwdriver emitted a loud beep. There. He crouched before a large pile of rubble and began to shift some of the smaller stones. "It only takes a pebble to start an avalanche," he said – more to keep himself company than to educate any who might be within hearing distance. Of course, had a human been in hearing distance they would be on the receiving end of a rather irate Time Lord's lecture. He had been assured many times that his absent-minded professor lectures were to sometimes be feared. Especially when he indulged in the minutia.

Ah. He paused in his industrious shifting to change the setting on his sonic screwdriver. When it beeped in confirmation, he sighed. Even now. Death, life, and death. It still haunted him.

_Doc-tor..._ Morka's mental voice was weak as more of the rubble fell away from the fallen Silurian. He did not have to look at his screwdriver to know the truth. Morka was not long for this world. Not anymore. Death, life, and death.

"Morka," he replied as he changed the setting on his screwdriver once again. There it was. The fire nearby consumed the canister that had once held the death sentence of the human race. Destroyed in fire. How ironic.

A clawed hand freed itself from the rubble to clutch at his sleeve. _It...is good._

"What is?" Why did he feel guilt? Why was he indulging the Silurian with one last word, one last chance to recant? What had happened to no second chances?

_Death._ Morka's hand fell limply to the ground and he sighed.

He had one constant companion. Just one. Throughout all his lives that did not change. His constant companion…was Death.

With a weary sigh, he shifted himself to his feet. Death, life, and death. That would never change. One more day, the human race was safe. Just for one more day. Until the next Morka. Until the next invasion. But, for now, he could content himself with that.

_Step, step, shuffle, limp, slide, skip._

As he walked, he waved his hand and smiled brightly at the others from across the battlefield. From this distance, they could not see the lie behind the grin. All they could see was the truth.

All-clear.

The human race was safe.

Until the next time.

* * *

The moment the Doctor returned, Jack knew that something was wrong. Behind his smile, behind the laughing façade, he could see that there was a problem. Unspoken, yes. But there. However, knowing the Time Lord as well as he did, he knew that there was little chance that he would speak freely before strangers.

Hiding this knowledge behind concern, Jack grasped his lover's arm and steered him toward the TARDIS. "Let me look at that ankle."

The Doctor shrugged but allowed himself to be led back to the ship. No protest. No insisting that he was fine. Now he definitely knew that something was wrong.

He knew that Alistair and Rose trailed behind them, but for this moment his concern was for the Doctor. Behind the other man's brown eyes, he could see a phantom of pain, hurt, and guilt. The expression belonged more to a blue-eyed, leather-clad man than this younger, more jovial version.

Jack ushered the Doctor inside the TARDIS and down the corridor to the medbay. He worked in silence, healing the ankle and the other abrasions that his friend had gained while in captivity. "All right," he said once he was finished. He braced both hands on either side of the Time Lord, effectively trapping him against the bed. "What's wrong?"

The Doctor looked startled. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong. My ankle's right. Rose's right. Well, actually right-handed. Though you're left-handed, so that doesn't quite work. Alistair, never really noticed. Are you right-handed, Alistair?"

"Doctor," Rose said with a sigh. "You really think that's gonna work?"

"Usually does." A hurt expression darted over the Time Lord's face before he decided to switch tracks. "Why, wanna try something different? I hear Naples is lovely this time of year. Or, oh! I know. We can take Alistair back to England, and visit for a bit. Maybe even check out my house in Kent. Have I taken you there yet? Or we could just park ourselves in the vortex for a while and let the world pass us by. Not a problem, that. After all, it does travel in time."

Rose looked rather confused. Then again, he suspected he did as well. "You have a house?"

"I didn't tell you? Blimey, I'm getting forgetful in my old age. Sorry 'bout that. We can go there next, if you like. Probably 'bout time I showed up there this go-around." His smile was innocence-personified.

"Doctor, that might distract your companions but that won't distract me," Alistair said from his position near the doorway. "You use the same old tricks, even though it's a newer you."

"Why fix what isn't broken?" the Doctor asked, but seemed to give in. "The plague's gone. And Morka was still alive." The words were said with the nonchalance that was normally reserved for reciting a grocery list.

"Was?" Alistair repeated.

"Not anymore. He's dead. No more. Finito. Nada mas. No more Morka. But he lived just long enough to see me." The Doctor looked away from his questing gaze, preferring to regard the greenish-gold roundels on the walls of the TARDIS than him.

So that was the problem. He knew the Doctor. He knew how he regretted needless death – even that of an enemy. Jack suspected that there was more to the story of this Silurian than the Doctor was telling them, but he also knew that it was highly unlikely that the story would ever be told.

With a rustle of cloth, Rose joined him by the bedside. Her hand automatically reached for the Doctor's, entwining their fingers. "'M sorry."

The Doctor shrugged, looking between Jack and Rose with a fond smile. "What for? Not your fault. More mine than anyone else's."

"That is where you are wrong, Doctor," Alistair interrupted. "It was my choice. I chose to fire that weapon. I chose to destroy Naachtun. All you did was live. That's it. Nothing more. You can't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time, Doctor. That's another habit of yours that I could do without. That's what friends are for."

The storm seemed to lift as the Doctor met Jack's eyes before glancing at Rose and Alistair in turn. "Thank you."

With a cocky grin, Jack released the other man and stepped away. He wanted to add that he wanted that 'thank you' paid in full the next bedroom they saw, but he restrained himself. Alistair was, after all, a product of his time despite his open-mindedness.

"Doctor, there is something else. I was recalled to active duty not because of this situation, but because of a more home-grown problem. The Prime Minister has been fishing for information about you. Dr Shaw, Jo, Sarah Jane and a few others have contacted Brigadier Bambera after they were collected by MI-5. I'm not certain what she is planning, or what she is up to, but I wanted to warn you."

And the storm returned. Only this time it was reflected in all of their eyes. "She's been fishing, hasn't she?" The Doctor raked his free hand through his hair and shook his head. "Knowing my friends, she wouldn't have learned much, if anything."

"Bambera is keeping an eye on her activities, and quietly ensuring that all of your previous companions – at least the ones we know of – are under UNIT protection," Alistair replied.

"Good. Thank her for me. I'll have to check in on Harriet Jones, Prime Minister, it seems. But not now. Now, I think, is time to celebrate. We won. Sort of. Kind of. Well, really we did." The Doctor grinned as he hopped off the bed. "If I know my native tribes – and really, I do – they're going to throw a great party tonight."

"Speaking of which, Doctor, why won't the TARDIS translate Atan's words?" Jack asked.

"Ah. Yes. Well, the TARDIS can't know every language in existence, now can she? Though, next time we're in the area, she will. Consider it an upgrade."

An upgrade. He shook his head. Only the Doctor. At least he had been spared the indignity of playing charades with the natives.

At least he had found one upside of the original surprise. Even if it was only one.

* * *

Shadows lengthened and grew deeper as the sun sank lower beyond the trees. In the dusty twilight, the remains of the ruins gained a slightly sinister look. Behind each pile of rubble, or behind each tree, her over-active imagination could picture a Silurian. However, she felt no mental intrusion. She felt no need to run. She was safe.

They all were.

With a faint smile she turned from the ruins and faced the dancing flames of the bonfire. The tribesmen had insisted, as the Doctor had suspected, upon celebrating their victory. The drumbeat echoed oddly in the clearing – bouncing off the rubble, the Doctor had explained – but it was strong enough to echo the pulse of her heart.

Alistair had given permission for those officers not on duty to consider themselves on R&R – though he had given them a firm lecture on not imbibing the local alcohol. She smiled faintly as two of the off-duty soldiers tried their hand at whatever dance the locals were doing. To her inexperienced eyes, it looked like the dance was more an excuse to leap about while trying to look as serious as possible.

Those who chose not to participate in the dance were either watching the dancers or clustered around the dozen smaller fires that were scattered about the clearing. Her smile widened as she moved toward one of the smaller campfires. Jack was animatedly telling one of his stories – probably another one where he was naked, come to think of it – to the Doctor and Alistair.

"...and so, there I was, holding nothing but an umbrella and this rabbit. Now, no one thought to warn us that the cave was inhabited. We just thought it would be a nice place for a camp. We hadn't counted on the rain or the big, hairy, two-tusked creature inside. We saw it, and we ran. Oh my god, we ran so fast back to the ship and we took off faster than you can say boom. I swear we didn't stop until we hit the space-lanes!"

"Didn't we hear this one?" she asked, tongue-in-cheek as she all but collapsed next to the Doctor. "Though last time I thought there were fifteen of you. An' you were naked."

"The umbrella and the rabbit were new, though. I rather liked that. Maybe next time you can throw in a…" The Doctor's words were cut off as Jack smacked his arm. "Oi!" He rubbed the injured limb with a hurt expression.

"So, what are your plans, Doctor?" Alistair asked from his position on the other side of the fire.

"Tonight? Tonight, I'm planning on enjoying this fire. As for tomorrow, well, we'll see what tomorrow brings. Might be something new. Might not be. But not to worry, I'll sort Harriet Jones, Prime Minister. But that's for tomorrow. Tonight's tonight. Tomorrow's tomorrow. Unless, of course, you have a time machine. Then tonight could be tomorrow and vice versa. Or something like that." The Doctor wrinkled his nose as he shook his head. "That didn't really make sense, did it? Must be something about this regeneration. Might not make sense ever again. Might be interesting, really. Not making sense."

She tapped his arm. "Doctor, you're babbling again."

He blinked and grinned sheepishly. "So I am. It's a part of my charm, really."

"Well, Doctor, with that I'm off to bed." Alistair stood and brushed the dirt off his trousers. "Are you going to still be here in the morning?"

"Should be. Unless I'm not."

The Brigadier shook his head. "Only you, Doctor. Goodnight, all."

"Night!" Jack waved.

Rose smiled. "Night, Alistair."

Alistair looked rather taken aback before he grinned. "Night, Rose." With those words, he turned and left the light of the campfire.

"Alone at last," Jack said as he stretched his back. "Now I can have my wicked way with the two of you."

"Not quite," the Doctor corrected. In the flickering light cast by the campfire, she could see two figures approaching, carrying an earthenware pot between them.

Atan smiled brightly as he reached them. Elena Morales' smile was less vibrant as the two set down the pot. Anger still lurked behind the woman's eyes. "Atan insisted that you must try this, Doctor, Rose, Jack. It's called chocolatl. It's a bit like hot chocolate, only much spicier."

"Sure. Tell him thank you." The Doctor stood and crossed the short distance between them and Elena.

Accepting an empty bowl from Elena, he dipped out a portion of the steaming liquid. Balancing it carefully, he returned to her side and offered it to her.

Rose accepted the earthenware bowl of hot chocolate from the Doctor with a nod of thanks. After the day that they'd had, hot chocolate would be most welcome. The Doctor passed another bowl to Jack before taking one for himself and settling beside her. As she and Jack began to drink, she suddenly realised that it had grown rather quiet.

When she looked up, she noticed that Atan was grinning widely at her. He picked up a bowl and lifted it in salute. He turned toward Elena and murmured something in his native tongue that she did not catch.

Elena laughed as she turned toward them. "I believe congratulations are in order."

"Doctor?" she asked. "What is it?"

He blinked for a moment and looked rather sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah. Forgot about that."

"Doctor?" If she didn't get a straight answer from him soon, she could not be held accountable for her actions.

He shook himself and grinned. "So, Rose Tyler, where would you like to go for the honeymoon?"

"What?"

"Yes, well...it seems that by offering you the hot chocolate and your accepting, and the same with Jack, we're married."

She stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. Married? "We are?"

"We are?" Jack echoed in a similar tone.

"Yup. That all right?" He looked rather worried. "There's an out, though. Not tribal members, us. Different customs and all. It's not even legal in most countries. Or planets. Well, on some of them it would be. But they don't have to know about it. I mean, what you don't know can't hurt you, right? Unless you're me, and then it might. And knowing your Mum, it would."

She shared a look with Jack before turning back to him, placing her hand on his arm. "More than all right."

Jack grinned as he added, "Might as well make it official, then." He offered her his bowl, which she accepted with an echoing smile.

As she sipped, he continued, "I'd actually call it fantastic."

Things tended to move fast in her life. Just last night, they had crossed a line. Now, today, they had crossed another.

It had been a surprise.

However, she decided, she rather liked surprises.

Even if they had started as one of _those_ surprises.

**THE END**


End file.
